Cold Valley

The cold sky lightens, 6:30AM December 30, on the cold Chuo Line
back from cold Otsuki, as we approach cold Uenohara

For at least the past month, Jerome has been talking about a "repeat" of last year's attempt to complete that most difficult of winter ultra-endurance cycling events, the "inland mountain route" from Tokyo to Kobe on the last two days of the year, arriving just in time to join the Beeren Club for a ride up the route to sacred Mt. Rokko ("Rokko-san") for the ritual viewing of the first sunrise of the New Year (the "Hinode").

Your humble correspondent joined the first leg of the trip last year, as far as snowy Lake Suwa in Nagano Prefecture (host to the 1998 WINTER Olympics) ... then hopped a train home.  This year, with my older son back in Tokyo from university for a very short of visit, I told Jerome that I could not join him.

On a family overnight trip to Izu this Monday/Tuesday, our shinkansen train was delayed in both directions, because of snow on the tracks between Maebara and Nagoya.  I fired off an email to Jerome -- if there was snow on the relatively low-lying outskirts of Kansai around Maebara, what would the mountain valleys and passes be like Northeast of there?  Surely, only the most courageous (or foolish) cyclist would even try to find out.

On Thursday morning Jerome called.  "You know, the weather has become much warmer and has been dry since Monday, I've been watching the forecast and I think I should be able to do it."  True, it was noticeably warmer in Tokyo on Thursday (low of 4 degrees C, high of 11, according to my morning newspaper), and if this trend held then it would be much better than what we experienced last year.  Jerome said he wanted to get an earlier start than last year, 2AM, so he could be in the Kiso Valley (or over Kamikochi ... madness in trying that route) early in the afternoon.

I hated to see him try this alone, and also wanted a good test of my new dynamo lighting setup, so told him that I might join the first leg -- just the ride out of Tokyo in the dark, assuming I could make it out of the office at a decent hour on the last day of the year, get my bike ready, get some sleep, and manage to stumble out of bed in time for a 2AM start.  No need to wait or call if I was not out front and ready to go.

I awoke at 1:45AM after only a few hours of sleep.  Tired.  We were on the way from my house before 2:15.  The weather was not so cold in Tokyo, but he mentioned that Yazaki-san, the dean of the Beeren Club, had told him it was snowing in Nagano on Thursday.  Jerome had given up the idea of Kamikochi passage, and was instead aiming for Nakasendo through the Kiso Valley.  This should have sent me right back to bed.

The first leg was uneventful, other than a gradually increasing headwind.  The Shimano dynamo hub and Phillips Saferide LED worked beautifully.  We took Yaen-Kaido, then Machida-Kaido and the south side of Lake Tsuikui, joining Route 20 (Koshu Kaido) just over the hill west of Takao.  This route is almost exactly the same distance as going via Takao, but avoids one climb of several hundred meters, in exchange for a few shorter climbs.  Neither route has any significant traffic between 2AM and 4AM!

It was just as we passed Tsukui-ko that the weather started to get really cold.  At a tunnel before the bridge over the lake, the temperature gauge said it was minus 3 degrees C -- and we had not even started the long climb inland up the valley to Sasago.  Rock sand had been spread on the bridge to prevent black ice.  We made our first convenience store stop at a 7-11 just over 50 kms into the ride.  Even Jerome put on some shoe covers, though he did not yet avail himself of a jacket.

According to Garmin Connect, the AVERAGE temperature for the entire 80km ride was -2.8 degrees C (or 26.9 degrees F) -- and that includes a first 20 km that was mostly well above zero degrees C (or 32 degrees F).  Between 4 and 6AM, on the ride out to Otsuki, it must have been -4 or -5 degrees.  My water bottles were frozen within minutes of the 7-11 refill, even though I had added hot water from the convenience store's thermos.

At least my feet were warm.  I had used a combination of thin wool socks, shoe liners, Gore windstopper/felt-lined overshoes, and "kairo" mini chemical warmers, and this managed to barely keep the cold at bay from my toes.  But I had not planned on real sub-zero temperatures.  After the first rest stop, as I shivered through a few short downhills before my engine heated up again, I thought my face would turn to ice and fall off.  My Sugoi-brand head covering, usually just fine for Kanto mid-winter rides, was inadequate.  And even my Nalini winter tights, Assos winter jacket and Craft inner layer with "windstopper" front panel were too thin.  I bid Jerome farewell at Otsuki, around 5:45AM -- I would have slowed him down significantly if I continued.  I sought refuge in a convenience store by Otsuki Station.  My skin was very cold to the touch, not just on my extremities.

I hopped the 6:17AM train back toward Takao, then on to Tachikawa, then the Nambu Line to Musashi Mizunoguchi.  Each of these three was a local train, so the doors opened every 2-3 minutes on average.  I would just start to warm up from a weak heater under the seat when the train car's 8 double doors would open, admitting blasts of cold air and returning the car to sub-zero.  It was a cold 2-hour ride home.  Only on the last train, from Musashi Mizunoguchi to Kaminoge, did I finally feel at all warm.  Then a hot bath and sleep.

I got an email note that Jerome made it to Kofu by 7:30AM ... but hit strong, gusty headwinds thereafter.  He eventually turned around on the climb past Nirasaki, to return to Nirasaki station and get a train for Shiojiri, the entrance to Nakasendo/Kiso Valley.  Did the weather actually get better as he headed by train further inland, to the NW, and to a higher elevation?  I doubt it.  Did he have the sense to stay on a train through Nakasendo and to Gifu, where he was planning to stay with friends?  I hope so.  Stay tuned.

Update, Evening of December 30:  Jerome reports that he remounted the bike at Shiojiri and made it through the Kiso Valley, suffering continually in (cold) headwinds, and arrived at his friends' place in Gifu Prefecture.  He was completely knackered (if I've got that Brit expression right) and suggested he might try to find a less mountainous route for day #2 of his ride. At least the weather forecast for Nagoya/Osaka area looks dry, partly sunny, and low/high temperatures of 1 and 10 degrees C respectively, so this bodes well for his chances.

Update, New Year's Day:  I received a call from Jerome just after midnight, reporting that he was approaching Rokko-san and Kobe, and another note this morning that he had made it successfully.  He departed at 10AM on the 31st from SE Gifu and rode hard, via the North side of Lake Biwa and the Japan Sea (the city of Obama), then over some (icy) mountain roads into Kyoto-fu and on to Kobe.  The weather cooperated on the 31st.  The hardest part was the headwinds and cold after Kofu, in the hours after we parted ways on the morning of the 30th.

Paris - Brest - Paris 2011 by Velonews

An incredibly well written article about this years edition of PBP 2011 published by Velonews. Too good to put only in the "shared" box on the right.

Look at the eyes of these guys and tell me how people look like after 1.200 km on the bike:

"This is my first and last Paris-Brest-Paris,” Edwards said. “My wife, who is a great endurance athlete, did it in 2007 so I had to do it also. I race Ironmans but this was something else. There was nothing which could have prepared me for this. Physically I trained hard, my equipment was perfect … but mentally this was the hardest thing I have ever done, and I have been to war.”



The Germans that attended were also naturally being associated with war:

"To know that I am not going to have to ride through another night is such a relief. I wanted to ride through without sleep but had to stop for three hours in the end. I could not keep up with the large group in front (a large group of German riders had just finished, all riding for the same team) they were riding like a military unit."
Meanwhile I am back in Munich and have two days off before I will frolick around with a larger group of students in the "Teutoburger Forrest", the site of the greatest German military victory ever. Quite some while ago, though.

Staying at Davids Bester Western Hotel in the Turkish quarter close to the main station, I used the first day to ride around some of the lakes in the Southof Munich: Starnberg Lake, Tergern Lake und Schlier Lake. The weather was just wonderful and I easily did 120 km and more than 1.000 elevation meter. Climbin felt so wonderful, I am missing that.  The later being the average tally for a month of cycling in Bremen.  I also went to a bike shop to get my gear fixed. Now I know what is wrong: I tried to built a all purpose cassette from my Dura Ace 11/25 and my Ultegra 12/29: The Durultra 11/29. Doesn't work. Hm, it would be nice to live in the South of Germany, I thought.

I am still torn if tomorrow I should take a train to Sonthofen and repeat Oberjoch and perhaps Hahntenjoch climbs of the first day of the Transalp, or.... I heard that quite close by is a pretty good copy of Cinderellas castle from Tokyo Disneyland. It was built in the 19th century by the Bavarian king Manfred II. Am I mixing things here? Perhaps I have been on the bike too long - look at my eyes.....





 
 

The Lost Weekend and Transharz V

The Lost Weekend is not only the title of an old Hollywood movie from the Forties that I never saw AND the title of a LP by the Monochrome Set that I never liked (because it was so much inferior to the predecessor "Eligible Bachelors") but also it wasn't a weekend that I lost: to be precise,  the last one. In total I rode more than 390 km on my bike.

89KM

Thursday was a national holiday "Ascension Day" in Germany, also known as "Father's Day". A more appropriate name would be "Tube Puncture Day" or "Father Annihilation Day", but I come to the point shortly. To understand the full context, I have to  first inform the readers of this international blog that do not know the customs of Northern Germany in detail.  Unlike people from other nations who gather in solid buildings that provide solid shelter, to drink substantial amounts of alcohol, people from Bremen prefer to walk through the countryside and drink beer, in particular during winter time. This custom is known as "Kohlfahrt" and large amounts of beer are required to endure the view of the rather dull countryside. Consequently, laked amounts of beer need to be transported and that is done by means of hand carts. A typical example of a hand cart is shown below.

The hand cart also functions as some kind of broom wagon in case one or more of the particpants lost their ability to walk during the process of the Kohlfahrt. In that unfortunate but rather common case, they can be stowed in the cart. So whether consumed already or not, the beer doesn't leave the hand cart for longer periods during the event.
 
During Father's Day large groups of Bremen's male population gather with or without hand carts at the embankment of the Wümme river and stroll along as far as they can get (about 37 meters). Unfortunately that was also the road I had selected for my Thursday ride. Within 17 meters riding on the road there my front tire exploded with a loud bang. I do not recall the number of glass shards I had to remove from the Schwalbe Ultremo ZYX tire, but the work was similar to that of a surgeon that removed the shrapnels of a hand grenade from the body of an injured soldier. Moreover the exchange tube that I had so thoughtful packed in my gear was pre-punctured so I rode back on my bike to my home rather slowly.

As it was already late, I didn't want to exchange the tube again, so I swapped my white Swiss DT front wheel with my high flanged Maillard hubs wheel from the Seventies, a rather odd choice for my modern looking Faggin bike. But which turned out to be fine.

And then I headed out again to the river Wümme, this time joining the embankment further up North hoping to bypass the mobile party. After passing a brawl that ended in some bloody noses, encountering a fair share of broken bottles along the road and seeing many drunks on bikes, with a beer bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I finally arrived at a "normal" street with "normal" traffic. But before that I was offered a beating when I called one drunken guy that passed the road without looking an "Asshole" and two random bystanders took offense as they thought (and liked to thought as well) that I was talking to them. The mood was hot.

From there onwards riding was fun again. I made the usual tour through Wormswede, but I stayed in the 140 HRM range in order to built up some stamina. Unfortunately some fathers do not only think that getting drunk is a good idea, but also believe that driving home afterwards is an even better one. I almost witnessed a traffic accident just in front of me when one car overtook another one on the open road and the overtaken car suddenly decided to make a left turn (we ride on the right side of the road in Germany). Squeaking tires, the smell of burned rubber...but luckily nothing serious happened.

Anyway, that was a good and solid ride.

71 KM

Friday was a normal workday, so the remains of fathers were already removed from the roads when I started to ride around noon. Again the weather was beautiful and warm. This time I rode to Fischerhude first, then to Quellkhorn and in direction Worpswede before I made a left turn in direction Timmersloh. In the meantime I had repair my DT Swiss front wheel and I told Kaipi that I would join his spontaneous Harz Tour the next day. So I took it very easy again and returned via Timmersloh and through the fields and pastures to Fischerhude and Bremen. On one of the small agricultural roads towards Bremen, I encountered the larger version of the "Handwagen". That is a moving pub pulled by a tractor for those groups that expect that everybody will get drunk and nobody will be left to pull the hand cart. Two girls on horses where riding behind the trailer as well, as they were not able to overtake it.

But at one point, where the road was not fenced off on both sides, they took the opportunity, put spurs to their horses and galloped on the green sidestrip, overtaking trailer and tractor. The earth was shaking under the hooves of their horses. That was really impressive. Again I was home early after a much enjoyable ride.

170 KM

The next day I woke up early and met Kai at Bremen Station to catch the train to Hannover and Goslar at 7:19 AM. Since I haven't ridden in Japan for quite a while it was the first time that I got up that early for a bike tour. Germany is blessed in summer with daylight until 9:30 PM and later. I had met Kai the first time when we rode the Bremen Bike Marathon 210 km in May this year. He was able to hang out with the lead group until the end while I had to give up after about 130-140 km. He had posted on the clubs forum one day before, looking for riders to join his trip to the "Harz" and I had spontaneously said yes. Some hours later, when thinking the whole thing over, I realized that a) the Harz inlcudes some mountains and b) that I have sold my Cervelo bike some time ago and that I do only posses the Faggin bike for competitive riding (I have a large amount of bikes for non-competitive riding hidden in my garage as well). The Faggin bike however, has no front derailleur and only one chainring. Needless to say that it is not a compact crank but a standard one equipped with a 52 chain ring. Perfect for Bremen. Not so perfect for mountains. But as I had said yes already and I thought: "Hm, this will get hard but afterwards you can write a lot of nice stories about your stupidity" I decided to go along and join the Harz tour.

The most famous people I ever met were Günther Netzer (He was sitting in the seat in front of me in a Lufthansa plane) and Calle del Haye, a former soccer player of my home town club. In 1986 I was eating with my friend Peter and his girlfriend Kirsten at a restaurant in Aachen. We were placed with other guests along a long table and they were sitting on the other side of the table. Peter handed my a piece of paper on which he had written:

<----- CALLE DEL HAYE

I have to explain that Peter always made strange jokes, so I thought that would be another one. So after reading the note I said loudly "What's that fucking shit about this asshole Del Haye (at this time del Haye was playing for Fortuna Düsseldorf. He was the black sheep in a very poor team that was relegated at the end of the season)?" Peters eyes led me to my direct neighbor on the left. Needless to say, it was Calle del Haye and his wife.

Apart from that I almost met Verona Feldbusch in Japan after she visited the school of my kids.

But this is nothing against the kind of people that Kai was able to met in his life so far. Please have a close look at the below photo that was taken in 1983 during the blockade of the Mutlangen US base during the protests against nuclear weapon armament in Germany. 

Yes, this were the good old times during the cold war, where we had clear ideas who our enemies (US army) and who our friends (US army) were. Here we can see the late 1972 nobel laureate Heinrich Böll on the very left and later German prime minister candidate Oskar Lafontaine in typicial Rodin thinking posture. And guess who that good looking guy in white Addidas sport shorts in the background is? Right, this is Kai with his friends Peter, Andi and Siggi. Wow, that is something.

Kai used to grow up and live in Stuttgart but had moved to Bremen 20 years ago. Within this time period he was able to fairly adapt to the lifestyle and humour of Northern Germany, which provides a shining example of what I am supposed to do.

We jumped on the train that was fairly on time and we were joined by a group of young Nazi skinheads that were probably on their way to a different training camp in the area.(club name: "steel tempest").

When we arrived in Goslar memories from the cold war popped up in my head again. The area there used to be right on the border to former East Germany. In order to stop a possible rapid advance of Warsaw Pact tanks, the NATO decided in the fifties to built a formidable obstacle along the border line in form of an artificial mountain range that was codenamed "HARZ", an abbreviation for "Heartland Armed Resistance Zentre".  This shouldn't be mixed up with an obstacle against good taste called "Peter Hartz".

The construction activities continued for almost 40 years. Some of the obstacles were rather small in scale.

But others were rather big, so big that they were called "Großer Brocken" (eg. "Big Chunk") and reached 1.140 elevation meters.

Construction activities were stopped in 1990 after German reunification and what remains today of the whole area are the closest "mountains" to Bremen (only 2 hours or more away) and a population that is mostly drunk and enjoys mining tunnels.

Kai and me rode all days through the Harz. We rode up, he with his compact crank and me with the 52/28 setup. We rode down on long descents, reaching more than 70 km/hr. We rode on roads and we rode on gravel roads. We had some cakes in a cafe and some more food at a gas stand but otherwise we didn't took any long breaks and rode our bikes. It was very intense. I had about one hour more riding time than Kai at the end of the day as he had to wait fequently on top of the mountains for me to arrive. I didn't gave up on any climbs but it was hard to turn the crank. So I crunched my way up on the slopes by brute force.

Kai and me in front of the traditional Harz photo spot (since 2011)

In order to spread fear and respect in the Harz area I decided to wear my original Japanese Champion 2008 jersey from the JCRC. At least I was much impressed by myself.
But I doubt that any of the many, many motorbike riders noticed anything. They are so annoying, a real pest.

I tried to expain to Kai that my bike has a gold chain, gold jockey wheels, gold chain ring screws and other gold accessories as a homage to Rene Weller, one of the coolest guys in the universe.

1 Rene Weller, also known as "Handsome Rene", wasn't only a very successful boxer, pimp, and con artist. No he was also a fantastic singer almost as good as David Hasselhoff. And he has once said something really cool and intelligent, something that is so beautiful in style that i can only be said in German:

"Ich bin immer oben. Und wenn ich unten bin ist unten oben."


170 km and more than 2.200 levation meter later we were back in the train to Bremen where we arrived after a long day at 10:30 PM. Out of the 15:30 hrs we had spend more than 5 hours in the train, about 8 hrs on the bike and the rest was breaks and waiting. Proving the weather is good, we will do it again next weekend.

61 KM

On Sunday after receiving Harz V I could hardly move and I wasn't at all in the mood to ride my bike. However, I had an appointment with my former girlfriend MFG0006. Just like the musical pieces of Johann Sebastian Bach are numbered from BWV0001 to BWV1128 (Bach Works Register) I decided to code former girlfriends by MFG numbers (My Former Girlfriend). As MFG0014 became my wife, the usage of three leading zeros seems to be a bit optimistic. But hey, one has to be prepared for the exciting things that might happen in one's life. Look at Lemmy from Motorhead for example.

After separating 26 years ago in Düsseldorf, MFG0006, also known as "Jutta" has decided to settle, among all place, in Bramstedt, which is somewhat close to Bremen. To be precise it is between Bassum and Syke. She had invited my for strawberry tart so I rode the 30 km down to Bramstedt in the heat. It was almost too hot to sit outside.  5 hours later I was on the road again riding home with the additional weight of strawberries in my stomach.
Time for a nice Rollo, I thought. This was really a very intensive weekend that was made possible by my family deciding to stay in Berlin and focus on figure skating. One more time and I shall be on good shape for the Transalp. So watch out for Transharz VI.

Positivo Espresso Europe (PEE) Training Camp Mallorca

Ups, just noticed that this is the 1.000th post on this blog, so I better write something good.

Juliane, David and me travelled in late March to the island of Mallorca where we hold the traditional PEE spring training camp (since 2011). It is impossible to recount all the things we did there, but basically we slept, drank, ate and rode our bikes. Mainly the last one. We also hat a lot of good food. Within one week we rode 750 km and more than 10.000 elevation meters. We left the island one day before pure exhaustion would have prevented us to travel at all.

I had a lot of prejudices about Mallorca before arriving. In particular I thought that this is a part of Germany, where the elderly and the drunk terrorize the Aborigines. Wrong. This is a wonderful island with mountains, ocean, sun (MOS), perfect roads and friendly people. There were hundreds of cyclists out on the roads, mostly Germans, but also some Austrians, Swiss and Norwegians.

David with 5 litre water bottle.

Rest day (accidentally). On the beach.

Coastline at cape formenta or so.

Most importantly, after Mallorca we felt much more confident about tackling the Transalp in summer.

Picnic somewhere in the mountains,. Please note the red shotgun cartridge.

Juliane in good mood with 1 litre water bottle.

Last ride for my Cervelo. Frame is broken. The perfect spot for bicycle suicide.

Eduourd Manet: Le dejeneuer sur l'herbe. Or perhaps BowWowWow.

David, too fast for the rest of us.

Juliane, climbing.

Close to the Col des Reines, 682m. The road down to the sea on teh otehr side is spectacular.

Deia. Before lunch.

Mountain roads on Mallorca.

Wow.

J

Riding down to the sea. David.

Same. Juliane.

Mob racing with David, a close second.

PEEK Training Camp

For those of you who don't know: London is a city very much West of Tokyo and a little bit North of Tokyo. It is not as hilly as the mountains west of Tokyo, but very much more than everything in the North, South, East and West of Bremen. That's why it was chosen to become the first training camp of PEEK (Positivo Espresso European Klub) this year.I spend the day before the trip to London in Darmstadt ("Bowel City") in the district Wixhausen ("Wankers Town") attending a scientific symposium of the Logistics community in Ge many. I am not sure weather all readers of this cycling blog are interested in this specific topic, but in good faith I would like to summarize the main conclusions of the congress, which I have gathered after hours and hours of intensive attendance in dark rooms:

1. There are many problems in logistics today.

2. These problems are very complex.

3. We are currently trying to solve these problems.

4. But as I said, they are very complex.

Well, I guess one can say this also about life. Or marriage. Or riding up a steep hill.

Naturally I was very, very tired and exhausted when I boarded the plane to London. Or to Munich. Because one of the fascinating logistic solutions that airline companies offer to their customers today is, that it is much cheaper to fly from Bremen to the South to Munich and then back the same way and further North to London. But as I said, it is very complex.

I was so excited. The country were people speak proper English! Not that I have never been to London before. No, I had quite substantial London experience, being there with my parents for one full day in the summer of 1976. My parents, who stayed one year close to "Swinging London" in the Sixties (to be more precise, they lived in Bradford) know exactly what was "in" and showed me all the great sights. So when I came back now, I was able to tell David (born in London) and Juliane (moved to London in 2008) who are now living in the PEEK HQ building in Lambeth, where the action is: Carnaby Street!

David and Juliane don't live in Carnaby Street but on the other side of the river Thames, opposite a very big building called Parliament. And also close to Waterloo Station, which is the place where Napoleon's train never arrived at.The PEEK HQ building is really nice and I especially liked the view between the building and the adjacent railway bridge, clad in red bricks. Juliane and David were perfect hosts and even provided me with a very nice bike: A titanium frame Airbourne (Manhattan Project) with a long history. The frame is trippled butted in most of the places and triple triple butted at the bottom bracket. And, in case you haven't figured in out yet, it once belonged to the bicycle collection of David. Not even the soccer cup game between England and Algeria could prevent us now from riding out!So we set off to the countryside, where we made a nice pre-tour ride for the main ride the following day which consisted of a serious of increasing challenging climbs in short sequence. For some reasons Juliane and David still have the prejudice, that I am a strong rider, although all my hill climbing abilities have been drained out due to environment in Bremen since seven weeks. Box hill, for example is a very nice climb which might be just a little bit more challenging than Jerome's hill, but nevertheless was quite exhausting. The highest hill in the area is Leith hill, which we conquered as well, before we made a break at a local teas shop, ate some flap jacks and drank some black tea. Quite civilized riding, I would reckon.

There is also a nice and cool place called Coldlake where we took a break at the burial ground. Overall, one has to keep one's eyes open. As riding in the English countryside is riding along hedges on both sides of the road and there is hardly anything to see at all. So you have to wait for the gap in the hedges and then look fast.First I was surprised, when I saw no new houses in the countryside. I assumed then, that like the "Chiho" in Japan, the rural areas of the UK are slowly depopulated and that the folks are moving into the city or to retirement homes. But then Juliane and David explained, that most of the houses are actually brand new. As the local parish council controls the building permits, new buildings are only approved if they match in style and color the existing structures. So, after erecting new houses, special finishing works are being required, applying large quantities of mold, slime, grime and unstable chemical compositions to walls and roofs so that the structure matches that of the adjacent ones.

It was a nice ride and at the end we were quite exhausted. During four hours I did probably much more elevation meters as compared to riding seven weeks in Bremen. So we took the train back to town, had a good dinner at the PEEK HQ and shared some nostalgic conversation about our mutual time in Japan. Our thoughts where with Froggy, David, Shuhei, Shindo, Kurata, Malcolm, Graham, Peter and all the other riders we have met and had fun with ... Paul Jason.The next morning we made our way early to Waterloo station as we had a major tour in mind. Because the royal meeting was conducted at Ascot the same day, there were many men and women with funny heads at the station. Non-suspecting tourists arriving in London that day might get a complete wrong idea about how people in the UK dress today.

We rode out to Guildford, famous not only because of the Stranglers, but also it is the claimed home of Ford Prefect from the first part of the trilogy "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". Again, a lot of climbing was involved riding along hedges and catching a glimpse from time to time of the original landscape. Juliane pointed out the trees, scrubs, bushes, flowers, pest plants, insects, amoebae, virus etc. of the local environment while David try to lead us on beautiful country roads to the restaurant where we were suppose to have lunch with his parents. Well this was our main tour, but after having spend all energy already on the day before, we took it quite easy.

After passing Petersfield and coming to the town of BURITON (which I assume is the Katakana version of BRITAIN), we descended a small hill. David was in front and I was perhaps 20 meters behind him. There was a speed hump in the road which looked rather silly and I rode over it with perhaps 40 km/hr. The next things I heard was the sound of an exploding tube and the next thing I saw when dismounting from the bike was a flat rear wheel with a broken spoke, a pinched tire and an untrue wheel. Bad luck. At least we were able to repair it somehow so that I could continue to ride, but we decided to cancel the lunch, ride back to Petersfield, have a cup of tea and ride back by train to London. This was the first bicycle I destroyed that day.

Back in London, Juliane and David were so kind to show me around the city. We took are town bikes (less expensive, a Trek MTB for me) slang heavy bike logs around our waists and made way for the Parliament bridge. Buckingham Place. On the way to the place, the streets were flagged with French and British flags, it seems that the chief froggy and his wife were in town. Many war memorials are dispersed around the city centre. Many of them are connected to Germany. "To the Royal Engineers who have given their life during the great war 1914 - 1919". Were where they fighting in 1919, when we Germans have dutifully surrendered already in November 1918? Didn't they noticed that?

And then finally: Carnaby Street, the hot bed of Swinging London. So where is the Mary Quant shop? Where can I buy Twiggies trousers? Get a new haircut? Drink a beer at the pub that was named in honor of Jerome? Ah, here it is.We had some more beers at another place, then headed out to East London to have a typical British Dinner (Tiki Masala) at the Lahore Khebab Place. There we saw also some more WC games and finally we headed back to PEEK HQ.

Now the handle of the Trek MTB got loose from the stem and it was not because I was drank from COBRA beer, that I only unsteadily found the way back home. Second bike destroyed that day.

It has been a successful weekend and all of us have trained hard for the forthcoming Transalp race (2011 that is). The next day I took my plane back to Bremen (this time through Frankfurt) and did the one thing I did rarely in London: sleeping.Thanks David. Thanks Juliane.

Hiei Hill

On my first ever visit to Japan in 1985 I spend some days in a small village called Sakamoto at the shores of lake Biwa just outside of Kyoto. For a long time I have been fantasizing about about riding my bike from Kyoto to Sakamoto and with time running out quickly I graped the chance to do so on Tuesday.The weather looked real miserable when I left the house at 5.30 hr in order to catch the first Shinkansen of the day from Shin-Yokohama to Kyoto station. Riding in the train and looking out of the window the weather situation seemed to deteriorate even more while going West. This was going to be a miserable day, without doubt. So it was no surprise, when it drizzled already when I finished to assemble my bike and started to ride out Kyoto station on the beloved Avanti/Fismy side. How many times have I been there to buy some junk, not appropriate for my age group regardless of which age I entered?

I was so eager to ride out of town, that I rode much to far to the North. When I changed into rain gear and checked the maps at a 7-Eleven, I found out that I hat to ride back quite a distance and make a turn to ride on Ken-30 in direction Hie-San. This is a magical mountain with some remarkable temples on the top, most notably Enryakuji. It is where the warrior monks (Yamabushi, but no Yamabushi Toge in sight) used to live and descend to Kyoto to terrorize the local population. I have ridden up by car a few times long ago and I expected an awful long and steep climb, but it wasn't that bad. Mount Hie is actually more a hill in the scale of Otarumi or Yamabushi Toge (Chichibu, that one).Nevertheless with a lot of luggage on the back it took me quite a while to reach the top. There was an entrance to a toll road (Hie Driveway) which was closed for bicycles. These war-mongering monks still find ways to extract money from innocent travellers, now by levering tolls on highways. So I rode down the other side towards lake Biwa and the town of Otsu.

I had no particular goal to reach, no route planned and no minimum distance or elevation to be covered. So I just rode along in the rain, looking for things of interest on the left and on the right. A very much enjoyable type of rising like I used to do many years ago when I started to explore Tokyo by bicycle. Very non-competitive. Lake Biwa with it's long history is also a very fertile ground for this kind of riding and before long I found the entrance to a bigger shrine (Omi Jinja) where I thought I could buy some Ema for my collection.When I approached the main hall, I heard some typical Shinto music and I saw a larger congregation of rather old people gathering under the roof. Curiously I climbed up the stairs and just in front of me a ritual take place where three fully dressed Shinto priests dissected some fresh fish with a huge knife and extraordinary long chopsticks. The scene was almost surreal: here I came through the rain on my 21st century (not carbon!) bike dressed in high performance rain gear and suddenly I was in a location and watching a ritual that could have been conducted in the same manner at least 100 years ago.I reminded me very much of a scene from the movie Lost in Translation, where the female lead finds by chance a temple in the middle of Tokyo when lost in the city and marvels about the strange things experienced.

This is not one of my favourite movies. Actually there is only one movie I really, really like and I have seen a hundred times or more: "L'homme qui aimait les femmes" by Francois Truffaut (1977) and this one has nothing to do with cycling. Are there any scenes of cycling in Truffaut's movies? Perhaps in Jules et Jim, but I am not completely sure. Anyway, despite the title and the fact that the movie is starring Brigitte Fossey, in 1977 the most beautiful woman on planet Earth (my generation knows her mainly from La Boum) I do not like the movie so much because it is about love. No, it is a movie about writing and this is what I do when I don't cycle (or have to earn a living or keep my family happy).I deviated. Slightly. So coming back to "Lost in Translation", I nevertheless like this movie not because of the movie itself but because what happened when I went watching it with my wife. Much of the movie is located in the PARK HYATT HOTEL in Shinjuku, a very expensive but nevertheless stylish place where I choose to stay in 1998 for one night out of a sudden and foolish impulse. The next morning I felt terrible for spending uselessly so much money so I tried to compensate myself for this by stealing the hotel's Yukata from my room. Hey, for 50.000 Yen one can expect that piece to be included, can one? Of course I never told that my wife as she hates when I steal things from time to time out of bad habit. I have a nice collection of good looking ashtrays from hotels around the world and a massive amounts of coat hangers from the Excelsior Hotel in Hong Kong where I was forced to stay many times to attend many boring meetings at Schindler's Asian headquarters.

Now, when my wife and me watched the movie, suddenly the main character, Bill Murray, appears on the screen wearing the very same hotel Yukata (at app. 1:46 min in the trailer). Of course my wife noticed this immediately and gave me a hard time to explain why I had precisely the same type. So eventually all bad habits get punished, some earlier, some later. Or like we say in German: "Kleine Suenden bestraft der liebe Gott sofort, grosse dauern etwas laenger."

All of this went through my head as I was standing there watching fish get chopped, sliced and diced in old fashioned form just in front of me. Discretely as I came, I went, trying not to disturb too much the tranquility and peace of the place and the people attending.

Back on the shore road to lake Biwa I found myself sandwiched between speeding trucks on one side and the barracks of a Japanese Self Defense Force Base on the other. A group of soldiers in full gear tried to cross the street led by a guy with the famous Japanese red light swords, commonly used at public road work sites. Funny.By now I have grown accustomed to the rain and I was pretty wet. My shoes had reached the point of no return as well. Do you know this sensation when riding through the rain? The feet are getting more and more wet and then suddenly they are soaked with water and becoming cold. Do you know this feeling of helplessness that nothing can prevent this from happening? That you will ride the rest of the day, even if the sky turns blue and the temperature rises to 50 degrees in the shade, with wet socks in wet shoes? This must be destiny.

I then entered the village of Sakamoto which is really beautiful with a lot of old buildings and temples and continued on Ken-47 towards the North. The area is beautiful, still some Shidare-Sakura in full bloom and history lurks out behind every gate and wall. So I continued to the town of Ogoto and and tried another road up to Enryakuji, the Oku Hie Driveway. But also this one was closed to bikes - there is no way to ride up to the temple by bike (and to spend money).So I decided to do the most sensible thing and look for a nice Onsen on the coast and relax after this long, hard ride of 70 (!) km. I found one modern Onsen but it was OK as they had all kind of stuff which one needs to stay there. Even towels, razors and tooth brushes. First I was a little bit irritated that there was no tooth paste, but when I cleaned my teeth with it nevertheless, I noticed that the tooth paste is already integrated in the brush. Clever idea. Or perhaps it was the residuals of the guy who used it before me, again not 100% sure.

And this Onsen also hat three tatamis on a podium in the middle of the bathing area where one could lay down, completely naked and sleep. A most splendid idea.

After having a nice nap, I mounted my bike again and rode to Sakamoto where I met a friend from my first visit in 1985 and we had an excellent time together. The last Shinkansen at 9 PM brought me back to Tokyo later. Not such a cycling focused day but more than one can reasonably expect from a rainy day in Japan.