Man on a mission..

I’ve made the decision to head back to London and I’m not fscking around.. over 300 kays in 3 days!

This includes crossing the Ardennes!! and I’m still the same fat crunt you all know and hat.. love! 🙂

Actually, I’m still achy from the stack, but it’s okay, I think it’s just bone fragments severing some nerves or something..

Don’t _I_ just rock?!

“What a wanker!”

“Hey! Who said that?! This is MY blog and I’ll spin whatever crapola I want!” 😛

Notice all the bold? Who’s a little bit proud of himself then? 😛

Right now I am wrecked.. I’ve pretty much crossed Belgium in the last four daze. My arse is begging for a rest.. everything hurts.. I had one beer tonight and I feel like I’m gonna spew.. but you know what?

It’s still mad fun!

Mum reckons she’s following my progress on a map or something so..

– The crash had me riding trains all over Luxembourg to find a frickin’ bike shop that was open! Ended day in Wiltz (pron. “Viltz”).

– From Wiltz I rode along bike path to Bastogne in Belgium, where I spent half a day in the tourist office while the nice staffer called people and photocopied three maps, just so I could make it to the hostel in Champlon via the “as yet unmarked” bike path (actually just small roads). I did. It was full! I couldn’t believe it! Champlon is tiny! Friggin’ school groups! Anyway the situation quickly turned better when they said I could camp on the grounds, with full use of facilities, for nothing! One of the dudes even shouted me some Rochefort Trappist beers, brewed in the nearby town of.. guess? 😛

– From Champlon, I removed all trace the locals’ doubts (and mine actually!) by making it to Namur. To enhance the challenge (“Fat bastard versus the Ardennes”, that is) I also took a few hours out of the day to visit the Han cave system in Han-sur-Lesse. The caves rock!

But the train rides, walking and boat trips must come to an end and then it was back onto the bike and into the rain, climbing some sickening, windy, evil bastard hills to get to Dinant.

Note to Self: Even if you are in full cycling kit, holding a helmet, dripping sweat onto their desk.. Never assume the tourist info person knows you are riding!

I’m sure there was an easier way along a river but I rode along the N90 or something.. 7% up for 2k, 7% down for 2k, 7% up, 7% down… I flipped out and started swearing loudly at the world (okay, so I do that normally, but this was crazed “can’t even get the words out” insane ranting-type swearing.. )

Dinant was a lovely riverside town and I thought I was going to have to stay here, which wouldn’t have been too bad, except the options were 80euro per night or camping. I’m over camping. It’s cold here damnit! But, this lovely TIC chick says “it’s 30 kilometres to Namur, all along the river”. I do a double take and test my theory with “so it’s flat, all the way to Namur?”. “Yes”, she replies. Holding back a jump for joy I get her to book me a place there and haul backside to Namur. Mmm hostel goodness..

Spent the evening with a crazy, openly gay, American jazz singer.. and if I ever say “I was too fscked to walk” it DOES NOT mean what you foul-minded miscreants are thinking. My arse is and will always remain a virgin, thank you very much!

– The next day I ripped out another 100+ kays riding from Namur to Mons. The distance should have been closer to 80k but YOU see if you can find a French speaking Belgian (Wallonian) that actually knows how to get anywhere without using the motorways! I just love riding around in circles… *takes random circle and cuts it into little bits, stomping the pathetic remains into the ground*. Um.. I’m not crazy, really..

Ended up in a pharmacy looking for drugs.. I mean directions.. and wound up speaking to the husband of one of the workers there because he could speak English. This helped a lot and I did the old TT effort along the river.. until the next hiccup where some old dude ends up (after getting frustrated at my directional stupidity, no doubt!) wheeling out a pristine, black, latest model, all the bells and whistles, Eddy Merckx flat-bar roadie!! Saved again!

– Mons was actually quite nice too and I was going to stay another day there.. until I woke up and, almost out of habit, put on my soggy gear (the heaters weren’t on) and rode off! There were a few hostels in the NW direction – I’d already stayed at Tournai and it was too early when I hit Renaix (“Ronse” in Wallonian?), so I kept going to Kortrijk (Courtrai) where I found one of those older style hostels. Nice and has ‘net and beer, so I’m doing this..

Plan is to do one of the Ypres tours (infamous WWI battle ground) and then hit England again. This time I WILL take more than one day from Canterbury to London! Probably even take a train the last bit because this time I don’t have a “London A-Z” with me.. we’ll see..

Oh, the aim is to make it to the party on the 8th at Grant and Sheila’s.. I hope they want me back! 😀

8 thoughts on “Man on a mission..

  1. Way to go Stu! Back with a vengence. Just think, when you’re back in London it’s so close for when you want your next ride!(withouth 24hr flight first)

  2. Zacchary!! El Seano just planted TRANSYLVANIA in my head! I’m going there for sure, to meet his challenge:

    "You have to come here, but dont ride, you’ll be dead 10km past the border!"

    Okay, it wasn’t actually mentioned as a challenge, but I can make it one damnit! 😛

  3. > even shouted me some Rochefort Trappist beers, brewed in the nearby town of.. guess?


    What do I win?

  4. "My arse is and will always remain a virgin, thank you very much."

    What do you want Canasten for then?

  5. It makes for a good crotchrot cure. Mouldy undercarriage from insufficient washing and drying. Nothing too odd. Especially for a vagabond like me.

  6. Oh, Tim, um, you get the empty bottle.

    Only catch is that you have to come over to Belgium to get it..

    Enjoy your winnings! 😛

  7. Mouldy undercarriage… no wonder there’s been no womanly lovin’ going on (At least none that you’ve filled us in on). I got a copy of the German Language "Europe on undt Shoestring and undt Sausage" and in the health warnings, cycle-tourists were at the top of the list of things to avoid to prevent STD’s… bad luck dude. Walking touring. At least your bits get to dangle in the wind and air out a bit. Once you’ve worked out that turfing your 3 pairs of jocks will allow you more space to stash some weed…

  8. My socks have holes in them. I have another pair, unused, that I am carrying all over Europe simply for the purpose of comparison. I like to over-pack!

    Walking touring or wanking touring?

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