Until next time…
Photos from the exhibition in Phnom Penh.
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Click on arrow on the right to see the next photo.
Two months to the day since I rolled those last kilometers into Phnom Penh, I have had quite some time to digest the incredible experiences of my epic cycling adventure. It’s hard to put such a journey into words as each and every day was so different from the previous one, the terrain, the weather, the people, often the food. It’s hard to summarise such a journey, in fact, I don’t think I need to! I think what will stay with me the longest is just how incredibly similar we humans are, everywhere, what we don’t know about each other we are scared of, this is the cause of so much misunderstanding. Traveling gives us the perfect opportunity to know what we don’t have to be scared of. I’m often asked how it felt to arrive, to reach my goal. As I cycled those narrow and busy roads through the buffalo lined, rice paddies and on to my destination I guess I felt mostly sadness that the adventure was over, no massive sense of achievement, just the end of the road….till next time at least.
I hope that you have been able to share at least a portion of the joy that this trip has brought me, certainly the comments I have received from so many have helped keep me going. I have loved hearing from you all! Let the next next adventures begin….
Thanks to your generous donations, around NZ$10,000 was raised. It’s not too late to DONATE to The Cambodia Trust
Supporting A Great Cause: The Cambodia Trust
Click on arrow on the right to see the next photo. All photos care of Cambodia Trust, all rights reserved.
It has been my intention to support a charity with this trip since the beginning, it has taken me this long, and extensive help from my friend in Phenom Penh to find the Cambodia Trust. This organisation fits my philosophies and motivations perfectly and I look forward to seeing how I can be involved with some of their projects into the future. Their work is encouraging because they not only give but also train locals which empowers them to continue their amazing work well into the future, with or without the support of the organisation. Their work coincides perfectly with my own in the medical field and my long-term interest in prosthetics and support for the disabled.
My trip has so far taken me from Budapest along the Danube to Serbia and on to Bulgaria. I then pedaled east through Greece to Turkey and on to Iran. I then took a short flight over Pakistan to India where I have just completed 2 months of tough cycling in the high Himalayas. I’m now 10 kg lighter and fit as a trout. Ready to move on to central China and then on to Vietnam, Laos and finally Cambodia. I have so far covered 6,000 km and plan to cycle 4,000 more before reaching Phenom Pen.
My trip will cover a total of at least 10,000 km through 11 countries and at least 100,000 m of mountain climbing. I have passed through areas speaking 15 languages and 8 religions. I will take more than 10,000 photographs and shake hands with an estimated 2000 people. I will drink more than 500 litres of water and just 6 inner tubes. My pedals will rotate more than 10 million times and I will replace my brake pads at least 3 times. Burning about 5,000 calories each day, I will churn through a whopping 1,250,000 calories during the 7 months on the road.
So, with all that in mind, please read more about Cambodia Trust and donate what you can, however big or small your donation is.
Thank you so much for your generous support!
Three countries in one day
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The wind swishes through my hair as I whizz down the hill, the mountains behind me fade into a faint shadow on the horizon. The vegetation thins and changes from a lush green to darker shades of browns and yellows accented by vineyards like an oasis in the barren landscape. The soil changes from near black to lighter hues of red and brown. The air thickens as the humidity increases and the churches turn to mosques, interrupted only briefly by an excursion through orthodox Greece. The feeling of Europe is rapidly fading, the clip clop of Bulgarian horses pulling hay laden waggons, each with a driver who’s face tells the tail of a life of hard work. All this feels like a dream from the distant past as I cruise down a calm Greek highway, passed only by the occasional motorist out for a Sunday drive. The fields of labourers toiling to supply food to the masses are gone, Greece is on holiday perhaps? Or are they all sleeping? I reach the border without finding an answer. Dogs begin to appear from nowhere, lounging on every street corner, just waiting for a lone cyclist to pass in order to give them an excuse to get some exercise. My passport is stamped by a cheerful officer and I’m waived on to a narrow road, tall barbed wire fences on either side. Gun embankments on both side create a real feeling of tension, armed soldiers pace back and forth counting down the minutes and seconds until their compulsory military service is over. There lack of interest makes them no less intimidating, weapons at the ready in case the someone decides they’ve had enough.
Suddenly I feel like a celebrity as people begin to waive and say hello everywhere, in the first 20 minutes in Turkey I was given more hello’s than the entire rest of the trip. I see already that this will be an interesting part of the trip.
Flying along nicely
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“Eject, eject” he says. I pull hard on the two well used red handles between my legs, there is a loud noise as the hatch shoots upwards, I soon follow. Fortunately this is just a simulator and I’m thrust just a metre upwards, no rockets no parachutes, no crashes. This is the Mig 21 flight training school for the Bulgarian airforce, I shouldn’t really be here as a foreigner, but my host has snuck me in to have a look at his work.
Sofia is a construction site, building in concrete and steel rise like mushrooms in a field, the earth around each one remains broken, not yet paved into one continuous mass of man made urbanisation. Cars of all descriptions swerve left, right, left, up down as they negotiate what seems to be a forgotten aspect of the city planning. Prehistoric trams and trolley buses lumber arduously down the boulevards, pedestrians hope skip and stumble over uneven surfaces while unfinished buildings stand like tombstones to a new found economy in this country. For Rent signs in English and Bulgarian adorn many a window, just waiting for some life to enter their four walls. The centre is bustling with all walks of life, suited businessmen rushing to their next meeting, over dressed women who look more than ready for Saturday clubbing and teens dressed heavy metal outfits. My ears are met with the constant honking of horns as newly graduated teens whizz by, screaming in unison in a euphoric babble about leaving school behind.
My passport arrives on the second day, this is my ticket out of here, I leave towards the east on potholed boulevards, passing the airport I turn left and continue on the old road to the coast. From a leafy rest stop on my left a fancy BMW speeds off, to my surprise 3 scantily clad girls wait for their next customer. I would love to know their life stories, but I realise that they are just doing their job. I pass several others as I climb into the mountains.
While stopped to make some adjustments a pot bellied Bulgarian on a racing bike stops to assist, Koprivshtitsa is the best place in the world he tells me. Wow, must be good. Arriving in the late evening, the cobbled streets , walled houses and the clip clop of horse hooves take me back to another century when most of Bulgaria looked like this. Quite a contrast from Sofia. Since this is a very touristy place I’m asked to pay for a room rather than shown a piece of grass for my tent, no problem. I’m woken early to the clatter of a truck hub being dragged past my window by an ancient grandma. This will soon become one of three wood fired stoves for the feast at lunchtime. I pack my things and sit and help to peel 20 kgs of potatoes. Peppers, carrots, parsley, chicken, oil, fat, salt and other ingredients appear and are added to the mix. There is heated discussion about how each thing should be done. I’m happy that I don’t understand any of it.
I reach the top of a grassy valley and see out over the plains, snow speckled peaks beyond. I treated to a fast 12 km decent to the valley below in which I proceed for the rest of the days cycling.
I’m greeted very warmly by my host, he shows me in then lends me a mountain bike to go to the hot spring. Stopping for a drink at a spring along the way we arrive at a white, round concrete building in the middle of the fields. He is surprised to find that the spring has been closed off. We use my pocket knife to open the door and text the valve, the water begins to gush freely onto the floor, ever warmer as it wells up from the ground below. After a wash in the water we gorge ourselves on cherries at a nearby orchard before heading for the hills.
Run, run, run! He says, my legs push hard against the ground. After just 2 meters I can not make a progress, suddenly I’m being pulled backwards down the hill, we start to run that way, soon I trip and fall, he lands on top of me and the wing drops. With a bashed knee and nose we give up, the wind is coming from the wrong direction. My dream to go paragliding will have to wait.
From my bed I’m greeted by the sound of rain. Perhaps it’ll be a nice change…
A busy schedule
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This is why I love travelling by bicycle I tell her as we walk quickly out of the school door. I look back to see students peering at me through the half opened door. I have now met two English teachers and spoken to a class of high school students about New Zealand. Now we must got and get my bike which is being looked after at a bakery across the town so that I can have my photo taken with the graduating students from the high school. The reporter tells us to hurry as he has other things to do, this is a funny situation, the reporter who wants to interview me is tell me to hurry cause he has other things to do? I have to laugh at the sudden attention I am receiving. After asking a few superficial questions and taking a picture of me with the students and my bike, he is happy and leaves.
The graduation party is now in full swing, a hundred or so school leavers mostly dressed in white, sip at beer and wine in the middle of the school yard while their fellow students sign their t-shirts and other body parts with colourful markers. The DJ mixes the worst of modern pop music as girls dance on the benches. The few guys there are too cool for that and just sip their beers quietly in the shade. Just meters away from the blaring loudspeakers, a priest welcomes worshippers into his church to celebrate St. Nicola’s day, seemingly oblivious to the ruckus in the background.
Finally it’s time to leave the teenagers to it and head south, I have arranged to meet some of the people I met in Novi Sad near a lake for the night. I arrive late evening to find 5 or 6 of them there, soon after 10 or 25 more arrive and the party is in full swing. They are the Serbian Travellers Club who meet once in a while to share stories and experiences about what they love to do. I say my farewells and hit the road towards Bulgaria, I cross two mountain passes and finally arrive in Pirot, just 30 km from the Bulgarian border.
The main street is busy with pedestrians and noisy cars, I notice a bike shop where I stop in to ask about a place to stay, through broken teeth and with a a strong smell of alcohol on his breath, he tells me I can stay at his place if I buy him some beers. I move on telling him that I will come back if I don’t find anything. A hill overlooks the city, a perfect place to stay it seems. Nearing the top I see an old man and stop to ask if he has somewhere for my tent, in German he agrees on a patch of dirt near the road, perfect! Half way through our first glass of rakeja, his son and grand son arrive home. In quite broken but fully understandable English he invites me to join him into town for a drink. We end up having the usual discussion about life in his town before I fall asleep. By this stage a bed has been made for me in their house, I tuck myself in and sleep instantly.
I’m greeted with fried eggs, sausage, cheese and bread with strong coffee for breakfast before heading for the main highway for Sofia. Traffic is light and I make quick progress towards the border. All of a sudden, my bike and me are lifted and thrown, landing half upright in the middle of the road, my glasses have flown off my head and now lie in the middle of the other lane. I act quickly, moving my bike off the road and getting my glasses. I then assess the damage, a scrape and cut on my right ankle and a bruise on my right hand. The pedal on the bike is badly damaged and does not turn freely anymore. In trying to keep as far right as possible, I have hit the curb with the pedal which has lifted the bike of the ground. I test riding, the pedal no longer runs straight but it is ok. I continue with some relief that no cars were coming. I arrive in Sofia without too much trouble as the rain sets in.