Cycling across Europe brings you closer to the details that are easy to miss from a car or train. Towns unfold gradually, landscapes shift without warning, and small stops along the way are often just as memorable as the main destinations. In some regions, that means climbing into higher ground; in others, it’s following coastlines or moving between farmland and small villages.
As The Cycling Europe Podcast approaches its 100th episode, it feels like a good moment to step back and look not just at the stories that have been told but at how those stories have been received. Over the years, listeners have shared their thoughts across a range of platforms, including Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music and elsewhere. Taken together, these reviews offer an interesting perspective on what the podcast has become.
When I recorded the very first episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, I wasn’t entirely sure where it would lead. In fact, the question I posed at the very start of my podcast journey was: does the world really need another cycling podcast? Nearly one hundred episodes later, I think I’ve found the answer. What began as an experiment has grown into a rich collection of stories from across Europe (and occasionally beyond), told by people united by one simple idea: that a bicycle is one of the best ways to explore the world.
Gerald Huber is an Austrian living in Paris. He commutes to work every day by bicycle. Lots of people do. In 2025, however, he decided to go a little further on two wheels and he signed up for his first ultra-long-distance cycling event, the North Cape 4000 from Italy to the most northerly point of Europe at Nordkapp in Norway. 8 countries, 4000 km. According to the organsiers, it’s “a journey that will change your life”. He spoke to The Cycling Europe Podcast about his experiences and his plans to go one step further in 2026.
Gerald Huber is an Austrian living in Paris. He commutes to work every day by bicycle. Lots of people do. In 2025, however, he decided to go a little further on two wheels and he signed up for his first ultra-long-distance cycling event, the North Cape 4000 from Italy to the most northerly point of Europe at Nordkapp in Norway. 8 countries, 4000 km. According to the organsiers, it’s “a journey that will change your life”. He spoke to The Cycling Europe Podcast about his experiences and his plans to go one step further in 2026.
In 2026, the cost of specialized equipment shouldn’t be a barrier to mobility and joy. For families raising children or supporting adults with disabilities, an adaptive tricycle is often a life-changing investment—providing physical therapy, sensory regulation, and newfound independence. However, we know that high-quality electric tricycles and adaptive gear can be a significant financial commitment. To help, we’ve compiled a list of the top charities and grants currently providing funding for special needs cycles in the US and UK.
A few years ago I gave a talk in Saddleworth, just over the border into Lancashire, about my trip from Spain to Norway. In March, I’m back! I’ve been invited to talk as part of the Saddleworth Outdoor Festival. It takes place at the cricket club in Saddleworth and the details are below.
YouTube, Saturday 21st February 2026, 12:00 GMT
It’s taken a while but I’m hoping to have the complete film edited before the end of February. Watch this space!
Last year I was contacted by cycle tourist Helen Rivers. She was keen to tell me about a new ‘ferry’ service that had been set up for pedestrians and cyclists travelling across the English Channel. Helen and her husband Ben subsequently appeared on The Cycling Europe Podcast to talk about their extensive experiences of cycling in Europe over many years. It is the episode that was published twoards the end of January 2026, episode 98. However, as a result of Helen’s initial contact with me, I contacted SailLink and I included an interview with Andrew Simons, the skipper of the SailLink boat, in episode 91 of The Cycling Europe Podcast.
There are hundreds of long-distance cycle routes in Europe, but not all offer the same level of experience, comfort and consistency. This selection was prepared by Cycling Thread – a platform focused on cycling tourism across Europe and based on first-hand riding experience. Instead of rankings or trends, we chose routes that feel rewarding to ride over longer distances. Some are well-known classics, others remain surprisingly uncrowded despite excellent quality. Together, they show different faces of European cycling – from alpine crossings to river valleys and coastal landscapes.
I do like it when I recieve an email by someone who has listened to an episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast and has picked up on something specific that has been discussed. It’s often by a person who is offering more information or clarification and such emails are always welcome. This week I receieved such an email from a chap called Emmanuel who is a cyclist from Belgium. He had listened to episode 098 of the podcast – the most recent episode – and was interested in the discussion I had with Helen and Ben Rivers about our touring bikes.
Staying active is essential for maintaining health and mobility as we age. For seniors, low-impact exercise that is easy on the joints is often the most effective. Electric tricycles, or three wheel bikes, are quickly becoming a popular option for older adults who want to combine fun, safety, and fitness. Among the many ways to use them, interval training on electric trikes offers an excellent way to improve cardiovascular health, strength, and overall well-being.
Helen and Ben Rivers are a married couple from the south of England, retired professional musicians, but certainly not retired cycle tourists. They’ve been travelling Europe on their bikes for many decades and they have no plans to stop just yet. Sit back and enjoy their recollections of two-wheeled exploits that have stretched to all corners of the European continent.
Helen and Ben Rivers are a married couple from the south of England, retired professional musicians, but certainly not retired cycle tourists. They’ve been travelling Europe on their bikes for many decades and they have no plans to stop just yet. Sit back and enjoy their recollections of two-wheeled exploits that have stretched to all corners of the European continent.
A distinct shift in tourism preferences has occurred across the island, with visitors increasingly prioritising active engagement with the outdoors over passive sightseeing. Travellers now frequently choose to explore the countryside on foot or by bicycle, seeking a closer connection to the terrain and local culture. This trend has driven a corresponding evolution in infrastructure, services, and regional planning to support self-propelled exploration.
Civil servant Tristam Newey has a job that occasionally takes him away from home. On a recent trip to The Faroe Islands, he decided to take his Brompton bicycle with him and extend his stay by a few days. His plan was to head off and explore some of the verdant islands that make up the Faroes archipelago. Would he recommend it as a cycling destination? Listen and find out…
Civil servant Tristam Newey has a job that occasionally takes him away from home. On a recent trip to The Faroe Islands, he decided to take his Brompton bicycle with him and extend his stay by a few days. His plan was to head off and explore some of the verdant islands that make up the Faroes archipelago. Would he recommend it as a cycling destination? Listen and find out…
The weather in the UK is famously unpredictable, but that doesn’t have to stop a good bike ride. With the right kit, a few visibility upgrades, and some wet-weather riding habits, cycling in poor conditions can be safe, comfortable, and surprisingly confidence-boosting.
When it comes to the romance traditionally associated with Southern France, Provence is by far one of the most sought-after destinations. Let’s take a look at five reasons why visiting this region with a mobile home will provide you with memories to last a lifetime.
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, Tom Cartledge talks about his 6,000-mile, 18-country journey from England to India in 2012 and the book that he has written about his once-in-a-lifetime adventure.
“From Yorkshire drizzle to the deserts of Iran, freezing snowstorms in the lowlands, bullet casings in Serbia, firing ranges in Turkey, robbery in the Caucasus, and monkey ambushes in India—this isn’t a travel guide. It’s a ride through the bizarre, the beautiful, and the completely unhinged. It’s a story of breakdowns and breakthroughs, swearing and sweating, of strangers who saved us and hostels that nearly broke us. Of laughing through gritted teeth and cycling another hundred kilometres anyway—because turning back never felt like an option.”
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, Tom Cartledge talks about his 6,000-mile, 18-country journey from England to India in 2012 and the book that he has written about his once-in-a-lifetime adventure.
“From Yorkshire drizzle to the deserts of Iran, freezing snowstorms in the lowlands, bullet casings in Serbia, firing ranges in Turkey, robbery in the Caucasus, and monkey ambushes in India—this isn’t a travel guide. It’s a ride through the bizarre, the beautiful, and the completely unhinged. It’s a story of breakdowns and breakthroughs, swearing and sweating, of strangers who saved us and hostels that nearly broke us. Of laughing through gritted teeth and cycling another hundred kilometres anyway—because turning back never felt like an option.”
If you’ve ever finished a ride thinking “my legs felt strong, but my comfort didn’t,” you’re not alone. Most cycling discomfort is not caused by the bike. It’s caused by small apparel decisions that seem minor until you spend two or three hours in the saddle. Two of the most misunderstood pieces are what you wear under your kit and what you wear as your primary contact layer: bib shorts.
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, we talk to Claire Davies, former diplomat, cyclist and writer. She chats about her journey along LEJOG and her ‘end-to-end’ cycles around Europe.
“Are you braver than you think? That’s the question Claire Davies began asking herself as she cycled from Land’s End to John O’Groats, ill-prepared, unsupported and alone. At a mid-life low point, craving space and time to think, or not to think, Claire decided that a long bicycle ride was what she needed. Setting off for Scotland just a few weeks later, on a bike named Trixie, guided by a gadget called Guillaume, she had little idea what she was letting herself in for. It turned out to be a journey not only to better physical fitness and mental health, but also to empowerment and self-discovery, partly through the eyes of the people she met along the way.”
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, we talk to Claire Davies, former diplomat, cyclist and writer. She chats about her journey along LEJOG and her ‘end-to-end’ cycles around Europe.
“Are you braver than you think? That’s the question Claire Davies began asking herself as she cycled from Land’s End to John O’Groats, ill-prepared, unsupported and alone. At a mid-life low point, craving space and time to think, or not to think, Claire decided that a long bicycle ride was what she needed. Setting off for Scotland just a few weeks later, on a bike named Trixie, guided by a gadget called Guillaume, she had little idea what she was letting herself in for. It turned out to be a journey not only to better physical fitness and mental health, but also to empowerment and self-discovery, partly through the eyes of the people she met along the way.”
It was almost precisely midday when I set off along the 5,500km loop that, if all went to plan, would see me return to The Hook of Holland in two months. I was fully expecting to retrace my route back to the small ferry at Maassluis where I planned to cross – again – the waterweg to Rozenburg on the southern side of the estuary. It would be a 15km cycle through familiar territory and, as Wanda’s robust touring tyres rolled over the rough concrete of the wide path beside the water, I began to contemplate what was to come over the next few weeks. The known knowns, the known unknowns and the unknown unknowns.
When topography does you no favours – there were no mountains to feast upon in this part of France – the other facets of geography need to put in extra effort if they are to impress. On the morning of July 30th, they were sweating their assets hard. Within a matter of minutes of leaving the campsite at 7.30 am, I was on a dusty path, pine trees to my right and a meadow awaiting its grazing horses to my left. In the distance a few trees softened the line between land and sky and beyond them, across the vastness of space (and a just little bit of time), the yellow globe of the sun had started to glide effortlessly across the sky. Its golden influence washed across the field, its countless rays crashing and splintering as they came into contact with the cushion of mist on the ground. Above everything and beyond a transition from orange to yellow to white was a developing blue sky, unblemished by even the bravest of clouds. It was a scene that would have had J.M.W. Turner erecting his easel and mixing his paints without a moment of hesitation. Yellow ochre, raw sienna, burnt sienna, olive green, cobalt blue… This was a scene to exhaust the palette. And aside from an invisible Joseph and me, there was not another soul to witness the early morning spectacle. Beautiful.
Adopting the roads as it did, the route was set back slightly from the sea, often through wooded areas or gently undulating suburbia where it was difficult to judge where I was or how far I had travelled. But then I would descend slightly and find myself confronted with a picture-postcard view of a coastal village or an otherworldly beach. This was especially the case as I approached Tourony, but before I could explore, I noticed some familiar faces.
The final 10km of the day saw a return to more modest – but no less spectacular – climbing. Along quiet roads and mountain tracks the route linked village to village beside lush late-summer meadows. On the northern side of the valley the red and white trains continued to glide up and down on their spotless tracks. No leaves on the line here in Switzerland. The businessmen in their Ferraris roared up and down the road. On my side of the valley there was just me, a few other cyclists and the cows ringing their bells. This was peak Switzerland. All that was missing was a cuckoo telling me the time.
Nearly twenty years later I was back. Arriving beside the River Garonne the previous evening it had been immediately obvious that the frenzy of work in the first few years of the 21st century had not been in vain. A wide esplanade which had previously been the fiefdom of the car had been transformed into gardens, fountains, walkways and, much to my delight, a long, wide cycleway. It guided me beside the river and into the imposing expanse of the Place de la Bourse. When I was here in 2003 I was not even allowed to step foot in the square as it had been entirely fenced off and gaping holes had been dug deep into the ground. On this occasion, once I had negotiated the relatively narrow width of the road and tramway I was able to cycle freely, taking in the magnificence of the 18th-century architecture surrounding me. I circumnavigated the flamboyant fountain with its revealing Three Graces extolling mirth, elegance and beauty with not a hint of modesty. With a smile on my face, the virtues of the three young women seemed an apt metaphor for what I was experiencing.
More farmland came and went and although I was rarely afforded the opportunity to cycle through it, there was clearly a lot of forest, especially to the south between the Avenue Verte and the Seine. The increasingly predominant crop was sunflowers, their heads drooping slightly under the weight of their seeds. They were now at the point where the sun had done its work and they seemed desperate for the bees to take their pollen, the birds to eat their seeds or a farmer to decapitate them and turn them into a tub of Flora. But as of yet, no semi-detached houses, tree-lined cul-de-sacs, excruciatingly polite dinner parties or seething resentment of the people next door. Suburbia had yet to be reached.
I found Camping l’Escale Occitane around 3km north of the canal on the far side of Alzonne. It was, perhaps, France’s only airline-themed campsite. Rémy and Nadia had both worked in the airline industry before deciding to leave the jet set to run the campsite and restaurant. Air France memorabilia was strategically placed in the bar, including a row of seats from an Airbus. I could not spot the Airbus itself but would not have been at all surprised if it was on Rémy’s list of future purchases. It would make an interesting addition to the range of accommodation options that the campsite offered. This included an area set aside for cyclists and I pitched the tent as the sky was just beginning to take on a pinkish hue generated by the slowly setting sun. As I glanced towards the horizon I could see the hazy silhouettes of the foothills of the Pyrenees. They would always remain distant on this trip but, as I neared the southernmost point of my Grand Tour of Europe, it was a reminder that the greatest physical challenges of the journey were still ahead of me in the Alps. It was Sunday 7th August. I had now completed just over five weeks in the saddle and there remained only four weeks to complete the cycle. Had I bitten off far more than I was capable of chewing? On which thought I went to order some airline-style food in the restaurant.
I was, for the first time on my Grand Tour, lost. Not in the middle of a forest or on a remote mountain path but in Switzerland’s third largest city. I turned right for the simple reason that I would be heading north but there were no visual hints that I was making a good choice. Five minutes later I crossed back into Germany. I had envisaged cycling from Basel straight into France. This was not part of the plan but I continued cycling north. Eventually I noticed a sign for the EuroVelo 15 and turned left. This took me to a hydroelectric barrage across the Rhine and back into France.
All that remained was to cycle the final few kilometres of the day to the campsite on an island to the south of Sault-Brénaz. It was somewhat busier than the Lidl. The enterprising owners of the campsite had cut a meandering narrow channel across the island through which the fast-flowing waters of the Rhône were able to flow. The result was a very popular wild-water canoe and kayaking course, the Espace Eau-Vive. After such a quiet, sedate day on the bike it was very much a shock to the system to be confronted with people and noise, but welcome nevertheless. There was ample space for camping at a suitable distance away from the hullabaloo and after a beer in the bar, I set about making camp for the night.
It would be the usual fare of spaghetti and pesto (with the added delight of Lidl Parmesan cheese) but what was not so usual was the cool evening. The sunset came and went at around 9 pm and thereafter the temperature dropped rapidly. After so many nights spent simmering in the tent, as I headed further and further into the mountains, things were gradually changing and it was not just the colour of the water.
The coastline was more built up than it had been after crossing over the border from the Netherlands. Not that this made for unpleasant cycling; far from it. In most seaside towns the motorised traffic had been shunted inland by at least one block of flats worth of land. What I assumed to have once been the coastal road had been transformed into a wide active travel paradise with plenty of space for pedestrians, cyclists, café terraces and the forecourts of shops that hired out vibrantly painted four-wheeled pedal-powered karts. These contraptions could seat an entire family and there seemed to be an unwritten rule that the member of the family who possessed the lowest level of driving skill should be in charge of the steering wheel. For anyone on a cycling mission to get to the French border in one piece – that would be me – they made for potentially treacherous adversaries but, mercifully, I survived.
The coastline was more built up than it had been after crossing over the border from the Netherlands. Not that this made for unpleasant cycling; far from it. In most seaside towns the motorised traffic had been shunted inland by at least one block of flats worth of land. What I assumed to have once been the coastal road had been transformed into a wide active travel paradise with plenty of space for pedestrians, cyclists, café terraces and the forecourts of shops that hired out vibrantly painted four-wheeled pedal-powered karts. These contraptions could seat an entire family and there seemed to be an unwritten rule that the member of the family who possessed the lowest level of driving skill should be in charge of the steering wheel. For anyone on a cycling mission to get to the French border in one piece – that would be me – they made for potentially treacherous adversaries but, mercifully, I survived.
The coastline was more built up than it had been after crossing over the border from the Netherlands. Not that this made for unpleasant cycling; far from it. In most seaside towns the motorised traffic had been shunted inland by at least one block of flats worth of land. What I assumed to have once been the coastal road had been transformed into a wide active travel paradise with plenty of space for pedestrians, cyclists, café terraces and the forecourts of shops that hired out vibrantly painted four-wheeled pedal-powered karts. These contraptions could seat an entire family and there seemed to be an unwritten rule that the member of the family who possessed the lowest level of driving skill should be in charge of the steering wheel. For anyone on a cycling mission to get to the French border in one piece – that would be me – they made for potentially treacherous adversaries but, mercifully, I survived.
It would be an early start for me, one of the earliest of the trip. A symptom, perhaps, of my enthusiasm to move on to pastures new or at least to be cycling somewhere other than beside the Canal du Midi. Shortly after 7 am, I was standing at the gate of the campsite looking directly towards the rising sun. It was a moment of quiet contemplation. The previous two days had been hard work and, with Sète still 100km away, it seemed likely that today would be no different. My willingness – eagerness even – to give the towpath yet another opportunity to redeem itself was as annoying as it was bewildering. Before setting off from the UK, the Canal du Midi was firmly lodged in my mind as a highlight of the entire journey around Europe. Yet here I was just wishing for this section of the ride to be over and done with. I was annoyed with myself for having had such high expectations. I was annoyed with the authorities for not making any effort to accommodate cyclists. I was annoyed with the canal for having been built in an age when towpaths needed to be nothing more than rough paths for towing.
To get to Ouddorp and my campsite, this bit of humanity on a bicycle needed to cross the first of my four dams, the Haringvlietdam. As you might expect, the Dutch had afforded cyclists much more than a painted line on the road. We had our own two-way segregated lane and the only force of nature I had to contend with was that of the wind which was doing its best to toss me over the edge of the dam and into the lake on my left. It was not difficult to see why the concept of the windmill had taken off in such a big way in these parts. There was a particularly stunning example of one such windmill as I passed through the outskirts of the village of Goedereede. It stood, motionless, at the far end of a busy field of allotments which was dominated by a pleasingly chaotic display of red, orange and yellow wildflowers alongside more disciplined rows of vegetables. In a day that had already exposed me to many of the delights of the Dutch nation, this was perhaps the finest and I paused to appreciate it in all its glory.
After my experiences along the Canal de Nantes à Brest, the Canal de la Garonne felt familiar. It made for easy, comfortable cycling; the towpath was well maintained and mature trees provided ample, almost continuous, shade from sun. It was also very straight. I could see on my map the River Garonne wriggling erratically along a seemingly endless number of meanders while the canal continued a sensible path heading south-east. The canal presented as a parent on a mission to get to the shops, the river as a young child who simply wanted to have a bit of fun running up and down the pavement despite being firmly attached to its mother.
It was almost inevitable that I would encounter more disused railway lines in Brittany and that was the case as I cycled towards Yffiniac. Although the Vélomaritime vaguely followed the route of the old railway from Matignon to Yffiniac – it was only in operation for a short period between 1924 and 1948 – visual evidence of it doing so was thin on the ground. Perhaps a piece of civil engineering that had been abandoned before it could celebrate its 25th birthday was easy to erase. Or rather most of it. As it passed along the coast, long passerelles were required to lift the line above the soggy landscape and two of these structures were still in use ensuring that I too was able to keep my feet dry. They were not inconsequential structures. The Passerelle de la Côtière extended over 150 metres. It was built from reinforced concrete, manufactured offsite and “assembled in the manner of Meccano”. Yet as with most baguette-straight constructions of this type, travelling over them is rarely the best place to appreciate their architectural glory. Not so, the Viaduc des Pont-Neufs further along the line near Coëtmieux. Here, the engineers had foreseen my inquisitive arrival a century in advance and had kindly built their stunningly elegant bridge along a curve 30 metres above the ground allowing me to pause and admire it even from the cycle track. After a long day in the saddle, it was much appreciated, even if it too resembled something that might have been inspired by a box of Meccano.
The final few kilometres of the ride were somewhat less spectacular but pretty nevertheless through parched fields of sunflowers and past occasional clusters of brown cattle. I arrived at Port Maubert near Saint-Fort-sur-Gironde in the mid-afternoon, exhausted, not by the cycle from Royan but from the cycle to Royan on the previous day. It was time for a late afternoon off the bike and, after erecting the tent under some handily located trees at the local campsite I lay back on the grass and snoozed. It was a world away from the people, fireworks and rampant sex of the previous night. But the night was yet young.
Beyond the western suburbs of Arnhem was an area of dense woodland. That in itself was not surprising. What was surprising was just how hilly it was. After so many days of cycling on the flat, it was a delightful novelty to find myself freewheeling down paths in the forests and trying to use my momentum to carry me part of the way up the next hill. It did not last for long but whilst it did, was good fun. Then, suddenly, I was flung back into suburbia. It was perhaps not quite as well-heeled as its counterpart near Arnhem, but nonetheless pleasant and eminently liveable. The changing environment was being tossed in my direction at an alarming rate and I was loving it.
France provides cycling enthusiasts with a unique blend of historical and natural experiences. These routes allow cyclists to explore ancient landmarks while enjoying breathtaking landscapes. Discover the rich cultural heritage and natural beauty of France on two wheels.
The road to the Furka pass is only open for around five months every year but in late August 2022, there was not a hint of inclement weather. Although the air was cool and the wind had been gradually gaining strength throughout the day, the sky remained predominantly blue and the views that it afforded were, from the perspective of a cyclist with limited experience in the high mountains, unprecedented. After several kilometres of contouring beside the railway line east of Gletsch – its tracks crossed the road before shooting off into the Furka Summit Tunnel – I hit the wall of rock and the final series of switchbacks kicked in. Eight corners in total, each flipping my direction (great for an even tan!) and finally an opportunity to gaze at the view back down the valley. I could trace my route since Gletsch and far below me on the valley floor was the Rhône, meandering its way across the plain as a freshly born offspring of the still unseen glacier.
The sun was now at its highest and strongest. Not the best time to be moving away from the shady protection of the trees but I had little choice. For the next few kilometres, I followed the meandering path of the ever-widening river as it made its way towards oceanic freedom. However, it was not until the river had melted imperceptibly into the sea and I had turned to head west along the coast that I found what I was looking for. It had been in the back of my mind since leaving Paris: the Mont-Saint-Michel.
I had wanted to start my day by returning to the Place du Capitole to fly the drone so as to capture the glory of the town hall – le Capitole – in the golden-hour light of the morning sunrise. Alas my plans were scuppered by the constant stream of revellers who, at 8 am, were making their semi-drunken way back home. One young guy seemed particularly keen to ride Wanda around the square but I managed to persuade him otherwise. I could only imagine that his enthusiasm for flying – and no doubt crashing – the drone would be even greater. He stayed off the bike and the drone stayed stowed away in my front-right pannier bag.
It was with a certain sense of reserved contentment – that feeling you get after having finished your first beer – that I climbed the hill away from the Avenue Verte in the direction of the centre of Forges-les-Eaux and Camping de la Minière. It was still only 3 pm and the distance cycled had been a modest 57km but to continue would risk not finding a suitable place to stay as well as potentially tainting the experience of the day’s cycle. I suspected that from here to Paris, however wonderful sections of the route might be, it was unlikely that the Avenue Verte would be so enduringly glorious as it had been today. Quit while you are ahead, happy and famous.
I paused briefly for breakfast at a bakery in Stockstadt am Rhein, a small town which was no longer on the Rhine thanks to canalisation work. I was delighted to discover that the cycle route now seemed to be devoid of the horrible concrete slabs that had blighted much of the previous afternoon. As the path followed the course of the severely emaciated meander of the old Rhine, it did so along wooded paths, quiet roads and at one point over some comically bone-shaking cobbles… but no slabs of concrete. I was not quite ready for that torture again.
As I packed up the tent at Gotthard Camping, I had some decisions to make. A helicopter hovered above the campsite picking up metal girders from an adjacent field and flying them off into the mountains to be deposited elsewhere. Every few minutes it would return to repeat the operation. I fell into conversation – when it was possible – with my neighbours, Rich and Becca from Ilkley, the posh bit of my home county of West Yorkshire. They were also travelling by bike and had set off from Nantes earlier in the summer. Their route would eventually take them to Rome but up to this point, it had been almost identical to my own.
I don’t often use LinkedIn (mainly because I don’t really understand it, which is a lame excuse but there you go…), however I do receieve notifications via email from time to time and one arrived a couple of days ago that caught my eye. Why? Well, something in the pictures seemed familiar… The notification came in the form of an invite to follow an organisations called Cyclo Camp. A French outfit based in La Rochelle. Initially I thought they were a campsite themselves but no, they weren’t. I clicked through to their website and started reading…
In 2020, episode 23 of The Cycling Europe Podcast featured a chat with cyclist and David Bowie fan James Briggs. Inspired by the lyric of his musical hero, David Bowie, James set off on a cycling odyssey from Ibiza… to the Norfolk Broads. At the time he was writing a book about his music-inspired journey and now, five years later, it has just been published. According to the blurb, “Criss-crossing Europe, he visited French chateaux where Bowie recorded, Spanish Olympic stadiums he played, former communist states where his music was banned, and the Berlin Wall he helped topple – all while navigating angry Soviet ballerinas, suspicious village mayors, and an irate Cliff Richard fan.” In this episode of the podcast we listen to what James had to say back in 2020 and catch up with him again about what happened next. We also hear from Rob Ainsley who in episode 23 provided his own suggestions for lyric-themed cycling adventures. Will James find inspiration in any of Rob’s ideas for his next long-distance cycle?
In 2020, episode 23 of The Cycling Europe Podcast featured a chat with cyclist and David Bowie fan James Briggs. Inspired by the lyric of his musical hero, David Bowie, James set off on a cycling odyssey from Ibiza… to the Norfolk Broads. At the time he was writing a book about his music-inspired journey and now, five years later, it has just been published. According to the blurb, “Criss-crossing Europe, he visited French chateaux where Bowie recorded, Spanish Olympic stadiums he played, former communist states where his music was banned, and the Berlin Wall he helped topple – all while navigating angry Soviet ballerinas, suspicious village mayors, and an irate Cliff Richard fan.” In this episode of the podcast we listen to what James had to say back in 2020 and catch up with him again about what happened next. We also hear from Rob Ainsley who in episode 23 provided his own suggestions for lyric-themed cycling adventures. Will James find inspiration in any of Rob’s ideas for his next long-distance cycle?
In this episode of the podcast, Andrew Sykes takes an autumnal short break in the English Lake District. Staying in a camping ‘pod’ at the National Trust campsite in Eskdale, Andrew sets off on two rides as described in Jack Thurston’s Lost Lanes North. ‘Still Glides The Stream’ takes him on a figure-of-eight loop from Eskdale to Broughton-in-Furness and up the infamous Hard Knott Pass with its 30% incline. ‘Mountain High’ is a there-and-back roller-coaster of a cycle along Wasdale, to the coast at Seascale and south to Ravenglass before letting the miniature train take the strain on a chilly carriage ride back along Eskdale and the warmth of the pub in Boot.
In this episode of the podcast, Andrew Sykes takes an autumnal short break in the English Lake District. Staying in a camping ‘pod’ at the National Trust campsite in Eskdale, Andrew sets off on two rides as described in Jack Thurston’s Lost Lanes North. ‘Still Glides The Stream’ takes him on a figure-of-eight loop from Eskdale to Broughton-in-Furness and up the infamous Hard Knott Pass with its 30% incline. ‘Mountain High’ is a there-and-back roller-coaster of a cycle along Wasdale, to the coast at Seascale and south to Ravenglass before letting the miniature train take the strain on a chilly carriage ride back along Eskdale and the warmth of the pub in Boot.
If yesterday was spectacular, today was fun. Lots of speedy riding along up-down twisty roads, multiple pit stops for coffee, vegan cake, hot chocolate with marshmallows, Kendall mint cake and a couple of beers back in the Boot Inn. Not forgetting a train ride ‘home’ from Ravenglass. I was following another of Jack Thurston’s Lost Lanes North routes – number 3 – ‘Mountains High’ – but the title is somewhat deceptive. There was less than half as much climbing as yesterday’s jaunt south then north and nothing like the 30% incline of the Hard Knott Pass.
What a ride! Everything seemed to come together in perfect linemen’s for this first ride of my short break in Eskdale. The campsite is magnificent, the weather almost perfect for mid-October (no rain, no wind and, if not hot, certainly not cold), the route – Jack Thurston’s ‘Still Glides The Stream’, cycle number 2 in his highly recommended Lost Lanes North book – a mixture of challenging climbs and gentle valley saunters, and the landscape… well, this in the Lake District but even the high bar of Cumbria can seldom be surpassed more than by this remote south-western corner of the National Park.
To Eskdale. Get it? Anyway, the burgers of the Together Learning Trust (my employers) have given their staff a day off. Yippee! As I’m now working only Tuesday to Friday, I have a four-day weekend and am hoping to make the most of the opportunity by ‘eskaping’ to the western Lakes. And here I am, in the pub in Boot.
When we think about mountain biking gear, the helmet and gloves immediately come to mind. Yet, one crucial element often escapes our attention: protecting our eyes. Between dusty trails that blind us, sneaky branches appearing out of nowhere, and mud splatters turning our vision into a muddy kaleidoscope, our eyes endure a constant bombardment on every ride.
In this episode of the podcast, Andrew Sykes sets off with Tim Sanders to cycle the length of La Vélo Francette in northern France. After taking a ferry to Cherbourg, the dynamic duo headed east by train to Bayeux before mounting their bikes and continuing on two wheels. At Ouistreham on the Normandy coast they started their journey south along La Vélo Francette, a 600 km route that travels inland to La Rochelle on the French Atlantic coast. Would they arrive in time to catch their trains and ferries home? It’s over two hours of cycle-camping adventure (with two hotels thrown in for good measure) interspersed with the music of the incomparable Rob Ainsley. Put your earphones in, sit back and let Andrew and Tim take the cycling strain…
In this episode of the podcast, Andrew Sykes sets off with Tim Sanders to cycle the length of La Vélo Francette in northern France. After taking a ferry to Cherbourg, the dynamic duo headed east by train to Bayeux before mounting their bikes and continuing on two wheels. At Ouistreham on the Normandy coast they started their journey south along La Vélo Francette, a 600 km route that travels inland to La Rochelle on the French Atlantic coast. Would they arrive in time to catch their trains and ferries home? It’s over two hours of cycle-camping adventure (with two hotels thrown in for good measure) interspersed with the music of the incomparable Rob Ainsley. Put your earphones in, sit back and let Andrew and Tim take the cycling strain…
Before setting off to France to cycle the length of La Vélo Francette from Ouistreham to La Rochelle, I posted a few pieces to the website about my plans. In two key ways this cycle was going to be a little different. Firstly, I was cycling with someone else. All of my previous tours have been done solo with just the occasional day or few hours spent cycling with another cyclist. The other aspect of this tour that was different was that I didn’t post updates to CyclingEurope.org as I have done in the past. Cycling with someone else made this difficult; I simply didn’t seem to have the time to do so. I did post a few pictures to Instagram (@CyclingEurope) which in turn were posted to the Facebook pages but there was no detailed description of what had happened each day.
Cycle touring offers more than just a ride; it is a journey marked by unexpected turns, breathtaking landscapes and unforgettable memories. While you may capture snapshots with your camera or phone, they don’t always give the whole story. Continue reading to understand the benefits of turning those memories into a stunning photo book you can share and treasure.
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, Andrew Sykes and Tim Sanders – both experienced solo cycle tourers – contemplate their upcoming joint cycle tour along La Vélo Francette in France. Does artifical intelligence have all the answers? What advice can Rob Ainsley offer? Plus, Andrew Simons discusses being the skipper of a new Dover-Boulogne ferry service aimed at pedestrians and cyclists.
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, Andrew Sykes and Tim Sanders – both experienced solo cycle tourers – contemplate their upcoming joint cycle tour along La Vélo Francette in France. Does artifical intelligence have all the answers? What advice can Rob Ainsley offer? Plus, Andrew Simons discusses being the skipper of a new Dover-Boulogne ferry service aimed at pedestrians and cyclists.
Embarking on an adventure where efficiency meets breathtaking scenery, cyclists can find direct bus services from Geneva to the Alps, ensuring a seamless journey. This guide provides practical tips and insights for optimising your trip as you prepare for the ride of a lifetime.
I didn’t set out with the intention of cycling very far; just a short trip down the valley to Brighouse, along the Spen Valley Greenway and perhaps pay a visit to the new market in the centre of Bradford. Well, I did all that… but kept going. By later in the afternoon, via several coffee stops, I had clocked up nearly 103 km in what turned out to be a long Tour de West Yorkshire. Admittedly most of it was along familiar routes although not all. Some sections seemed familiar; the long climb out of Keighly for example, which I’m sure I’ve cycled before… but in the opposite (easier) direction. For a county that most in the country probably percieve as an urban post-industrial sprawl, it’s much more green and pleasant than dark and satantic. Full details below.
It might be worth reading the previous posts first. Done that? The Tyre Glider arrived yesterday. Here’s the official video explaining all… LATEST CYCLING EUROPE POSTS: Subscribe to the Cycling Europe YouTube Channel Le Grand Tour on a Bike Called Wanda, was published in May 2024 and recounts […]
Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving the new bike. The Ribble CGR Ti Enthusiast is a dream machine to cycle and it has reinvigorated my desire to head out for day rides. So far I’ve ventured out in the Lake District, the western Yorkshire Dales, down the Calder Valley a couple of times and on long loops from home on several occasions. Later this week I have plans to head south to Nostell Priory, park up and go explore the surrounding countryside with a friend. However, the puctures have been frustrating…
I’ve mentioned in recent posts that I have a cycle trip planned for the summer of 2025. On August 11th I drive down to Somerset with Wanda (my Koga WorldTraveller bike) to meet up with Tim Sanders, friend from the Cycle Touring Festival, and the following day we take the ferry from Poole to Cherbourg. After a couple of days cycling along the Normandy coast we will arrive at Ouistreham and set off cycling south along La Vélo Francette in the direction of La Rochelle, camping as we go.
I do like the spring and early summer. Springwatch on the TV, then Wimbledon and shortly thereafter the end of the academic year beckons. It’s the season-stradelling period when life gets exciting once again, mainly because you can start looking forward to things that will be happenning over […]
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, journalist Steve Silk talks about the journey behind his new book, Go West, a cycling odyssey along the A40 from London to the west coast of Wales. We also hear from Australian cyclist Gayle Moore who recounts the story of her two coast-to-coast rides across Ireland and then northern England.
In this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast, journalist Steve Silk talks about the journey behind his new book, Go West, a cycling odyssey along the A40 from London to west coast of Wales. We also hear from Australian cyclist Gayle Moore who recounts the story of her two coast-to-coast rides across Ireland and then northern England.
When I was in The Lakes last weekend, I popped into Ghyllside Cycles in Ambleside for a browse and a chat. It’s one of those bikes shops crammed full of good stuff. You could spend an absolute fortune in the place but, regrettably, I walked out empty handed. If you read my post here on CyclingEurope.org, the subsequent day I had a puncture and should really have bought the equipment I needed to repair said puncture when I had the chance. What a palaver that was… Aside from a pump, some inner tubes with the correct valve, a set of tyre levers that hadn’t perished and some patches (all the stuff that I subsequently needed but didn’t have on me), I spotted a nice Crane Bell that was designed for use on drop handlebars. But at £37 I’d have been mad to buy it. Wouldn’t I?
Pedaling through Bordeaux’s vineyard-draped hills can make you so free. That’s because the region’s quiet, especially when you’re cycling trails wind past rows of Cabernet and Merlot. You’ll certainly sense the air humming with earth and grape. For bike travelers and wine-curious adventurers, though, a wine-tasting getaway in Bordeaux is quite thrilling. It gives you a chance to experience the rich culture. From Saint-Émilion’s cobbled charm to the Médoc’s coastal routes, you’ll get to see it all. So, there’s a lot to explore and mind you; you’ll get to unlock the soul of this wine-soaked landscape during your exploration.
Yesterday was a blissful day on the bike. The new Ribble performed to perfection, the ride was challenging, the scenery was stunning, the weather played ball, I loved the National Trust pod where I was staying and I finished the day with a couple of beers and my favourite ‘on tour’ meal.
A memorable summer solstice. I was up early. (I always am.) Beautiful morning. Coffee brewed, I drove into Ambleside for the ParkRun. A friendly affair with far more ‘tourists’ than your average ParkRun. I chatted to a few others and then we were off! A creditable 25:42, only […]
It’s been a funny old year. A year of changes in my life. I have – in mid-life (if I survive to 112 that is…) – become a lot fitter. I have become a ParkRun regular. I ran the Leeds 10k in 53 minutes, 39 seconds last Sunday. […]
It’s nearly two weeks since I took delivery of my n+1, the Ribble CGR Ti Enthusiast and last Sunday I headed out for my first ride.It is an impressive bike and the 30km jaunt up and around the local hills was a perfect shakedown for a bicycle that I have christened Rita. The suggestion came from my sister-in-law and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. The bike is a Ribble Titanium so it is an obvious choice. Although the gearing ratio is not quite as forgiving as my other Ribble, Ronnie, such is the lightness of the CGR Ti, I was speeding up the hills at a pace that I have rarely if ever achieved before. The Strava segments where I achieved a PR are multiple (see below).
Cycling contact Simon Johnson sent through a link to this video a few days ago. We tend to think we innovate in cycling but much of what we do is simply reinventing the past. Off-road adventure cycling is nothing new… “Join Big Jim Collie – a Scottish crofter who lives alone in a bothy in the foothills of the Cairngorms – as he embarks on one of his epic cross-highland trips. Jim is on his way to Braemar, which is 60 miles away – if you plan on sticking to the roads. Luckily, Big Jim knows a shortcut through the Lairig Ghru – the highest mountain pass in the highest mountain range in Britain – that brings the journey down to a more manageable 22 miles, albeit over some of the harshest terrain in Scotland. Fortunately, Big Jim has a secret weapon; the Lairig Flyer, a rickety old bicycle. Furthermore, he has a wealth of experience – this is his 105th crossing of the Lairig Ghru. Perhaps most importantly of all, he has strategically stashed an armful of whisky bottles along the route – just the thing to keep his spirits up.”
One of the most frequent questions I’m asked about cycle touring is ‘how do you keep your bike safe from being stolen?’. Ultimately, you can’t. However there are some sensible things that you can do to make it more difficult for someone to whip off with your bike. Towards the end of last year, Roger Adams emailed me asking the question. He is preparing to head off to Normandy and Brittany to do some cycle-camping and had discovered my online content about the 2022 cycle around France. He’s just ome back to me with a reply to what I sent him and I went back to read my own email from January (as I had forgotten what I’d written). It makes sense to share my thoughts here. How do I keep my bike safe?
I mentioned last weekend that I would be featured in the June/July edition of Cycling UK’s Cycle Magazine. The editor, Dan Joyce, asked me to contribute to a piece he was putting together about the different syles of cycle tourer. He has described me as a ‘European-style tourer’ which seems fair enough. If you are a member of Cycling UK, hopefully you will enjoy the read. I encouraged you in that initial post to look out for the kit lists. Dan Joyce has just sent through a copy of the full article and it is indeed interesting comparing the four kit lists.
I’m not sure how these lists are put together but it’s nice to be included in them. This one – compiled by ‘Million Podcasts’ – puts The Cycling Europe Podcast at number 8 in a list of 15 (or is that 13?). Not bad for someone working from his spare bedroom… The other podcasts listed may be of more interest. It’s always surprised me that, bearing in mind the number of people out there who are cycling long distances, how few have whipped out their smart phones and recorded a podcast. It’s not that difficult folks!
I inevitable get to a point with the bicycles that I have bought that I need to know exactly what bits of equipment they have been built with. However, when I do, the bike manufacturers have moved on, upgraded, or perhaps even abandoned the model I have purchased and I struggle to easily identify the exact part description. In light of this, what follows is more for my benefit than yours.
At some point in the not-too-distant future, CyclingEurope.org will publish its 4,000th post. That’s since August 2008. The website has published at least one post in every single month since April 2009 but in recent times, they have been thin on the ground. There’s a drop-down menu over there on the right and you’ll see that in the first five months of 2025 there have been just 15 published articles, and a few of those come under the ‘sponsored’ banner (that keeps CyclingEurope.org afloat financially, along with the admittedly annoying adverts…). But summer is approaching fast and, following on from the previous post, I can reveal that I have indeed ordered ny n+1, a Ribble CGR Ti Enthusiast bike. Hopefully this injection of new kit into my small collection of bicycles will inspire me to start posting more regularly on the site.
When I was in the Yorkshire Dales with Wanda, my touring bike, a few weeks ago, I reflected on my ‘need’ (‘desire’ would perhaps be a better word) for a bicycle that would serve a different purpose other than long-distance touring or commuting and relatively short rides in my local area. I have three bikes at the moment, only two of which are rideable.
Last week, as the weather forecast was looking so promising, I decided to head to the nearby Yorkshire Dales for a couple of nights of early-season cycle touring. Camping in April in the UK is not for the fainthearted (although I’m sure many people reading this will have camped multiple times in the depths of winter) but the daytime temperatures of around 20 degrees made up for the chilly mornings and evenings.
Cycling is a dynamic form of cardio that many actively enjoy. However, if you’ve been cycling for a long time, you’ve probably dealt with knee pain in varying degrees. Cycling can be mild on the joints, but frequent trips might lead to some discomfort. Thankfully, there are ways to ensure your knees stay healthy and ready to carry you along your next cycle. Here are some ways you can avoid knee pain as an active cyclist.
Andrew Sykes heads into the Yorkshire Dales for a few days and this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast sees him travel from Bradford to Skipton, Appletreewick, Grassington and Buckden, via a canal and a couple of steep hills. Much of this episode, however, is given over to other cyclists who have recently contributed to the podcast in the form of a monologue. We hear from Justin Shiels about Welcome To My Garden, Neal Porter about his cycle around the coast of Britain in aid of MND and from Richard and Cath Jeffries about their winter LEJOG…
Andrew Sykes heads into the Yorkshire Dales for a few days and this episode of The Cycling Europe Podcast sees him travel from Bradford to Skipton, Appletreewick, Grassington and Buckden, via a canal and a couple of steep hills. Much of this episode, however, is given over to other cyclists who have recently contributed to the podcast in the form of a monologue. We hear from Justin Shiels about Welcome To My Garden, Neal Porter about his cycle around the coast of Britain in aid of MND and from Richard and Cath Jeffries about their winter LEJOG…
Over the years, many people have asked why there isn’t an audio book version of any of the books I have written. Well, I’d love to say that I had the time, resources and technical know-how required to embark upon such a feat. I can cope with making podcasts which don’t require stringent adherence to technical standards and in which my ropey diction can be forgiven (hopefully) by the listeners. But an audio book? I have tried on occasions to record something but I’m no Stephen Fry. The attempts have been quickly abandoned. However, I have news…
February and March have been a quiet couple of months here on CyclingEurope.org. Indeed in March there was just the one update to the website and even then it was all about, err… hiring cars at Tirana airport in Albania. (I have to pay the website fees somehow…) But it’s now April and things are beginning to warm up, metaphorically and literally.
Upon arrival in Tirana, the capital of Albania, the question arises: “How to get to the hotel and quickly move around the city?”. Renting a car at Tirana Airport on the website roscar.al will help with this. What is the advantage of such a rental? The advantages of online ordering are impressive and wide-ranging.
Jacob Lemanski tells the story of his epic ride around the world, twice, and how it has inspired him to retell the tale in his own series of podcasts as well as in ‘ant art’. Keep listening and all will be explained…
Jacob Lemanski tells the story of his epic ride around the world, twice, and how it has inspired him to retell the tale in his own series of podcasts as well as in ‘ant art’. Keep listening and all will be explained…
Europe offers a diverse range of landscapes, from rolling hills and coastal paths to mountainous terrain and urban settings, which makes it the ideal choice for a holiday on two wheels. With its well-developed cycling infrastructure and rich cultural heritage to explore on-route, Europe is a dream destination for cyclists of all abilities.
It’s January. It’s cold. I spent much of yesterday evening watching Alan Carr and Amanda Holden renovating a house in Andalucia in southern Spain under the cloudless blue skies of summer. Do we have to wait for another six months before venturing south on our bikes? Well, no… and an email from Jannifer Margison provides some evidence that we should consider Spain in the winter too. Along with her husband, she is currently cycling in southern Spain for the second winter on the trot. Her website is worth visiting. If it weren’t for the fact that I have to work five days a week, I might be jumping on the next ferry and joining her…
Regular listeners to The Cycling Europe Podcast will once again see some familiar names on the list of participants in this year’s virtual Cycle Touring Festival. From Markus Stitz to Sophie Gordon, from Joanna Chmara to Rob Ainsley. Just four of the many speakers at the event which takes place from Monday 3rd to Sunday 9th February. Along with Tim sanders, I’ll be giving a talk about my experience cycling in Shetland and Orkney in the summer of 2024. Here’s some more information from Laura Moss, one of the organisers:
Blue Monday? Not Here… All Books Now Just £2.99 (eBook) Or £11.99 (Paperback)
Happy New Year 2025!
