I thought it would be both adventurous and exciting to do a bicycle tour. I had never attempted one before, yet the idea seemed fun. As a last minute decision, I bought a mountain bike, put a rack on it with panniers, purchased a tent, sleeping bag and a few other miscellaneous items and decided to give it a go. I was a little nervous crossing the French Italien boarder, as my visa ran out a few months ago and if questioned by police/boarder control I would be deported back to Canada. Normally the EU boarders are not patrolled, however due to the unrest in North Africa, and the resulting influx of Tunisians into Italy the boarders are now being monitored with increasing frequently. Due to its proximity, Italy has had to shoulder most of the burden of the North African refugees and requested help from other EU nations. When the help wasn’t forthcoming, Italy started packing trains with the Tunisians and sending them into France with temporary visa’s. France responded by stopping all train traffic into its boarders from Italy. Unfortuantelly for me, this has had the result of increased police presence at the Italien-French boarder. However, the boarder crossing was easy; no cops. My friends Dolly, Chris and Issy dropped me off near Courmayer at a nice little campsite. After they left, the realization of what I was attempting started to set in. It was around 4:00 in the afternoon and I was left at a campsite with a bicycle. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I guess I should set up camp, I thought, and proceeded to set up the tent and get everything ready for the next day. Upon completion, I decided to take the ol bicycle for a test run with a 'GoPro' (it is a video camera attached to my helmet), ate supper then went to bed. I woke the next day at 6:30, both anxious and excited to start the tour. As with most new endevours, there was no rythem or system to dismantelling my camp site and packing my bicycle. It took me over an hour to get ready to depart. I ended up cycling for 7.5 hours (minus lunch and breakfast), and ended up past Cogne and into Valnontey. It is in the Gran Parc Nacional del Paradiso; Italys first national park. For the last 6 hours of my cycling, it was uphill the entire way. Cogne is high up in the alps and is such a pretty town. I was EXHAUSTED, but what a amazing day! With the anxities of my trip all but gone, my spirits were high. It is enjoyable to have good music, amazing scenery, amazing food and the knowledge that you can go anywhere you want! I ate in tiny restaurants where none of the staff spoke english and didnt have menu's (or they decided not to let me see them). The waiter would just rattle off names of foods and I would say yes to one of them randomly. With no idea of what I ordered, I was a little curious as to what was would eventually show up. For breakfast I destroyed a huge plate of pesto pasta and could feel my stomach expanding as it tried to accomidate the new guests. When one plate was cleared another took its place. This one with 2 large pieces of veal scallopini. I could hardly walk when I finished.

  Thus far in the trip I have had the fortune to only suffer minor hiccups along the way; I tested the tent and sleeping mat before I departed, but didnt think it was neccesary to test the sleeping bag. Big mistake. The idiots (see; fool, incompetent) at the store sold me a sleeping bag that is good to +11, even though I requested and paid for the one that is good to -4. The bag is in no way adaquate for the alps in may. I guess I will ‘suck it up’ and get used to sleeping with all my clothes, toque (beanie), and sleeping bag over my face. Overall I am happy with the preparations that I did considering I have no experience attempting anything like this before.

My first cycling lesson; maps are great, but elevation maps are essential. I completed the first 20 km in a hour, then it took me the rest of the day to do the last 30 as it was a constant inclination.

I woke up in Parc nazionale del gran paradiso surrounded by the amazing italien alps. Allthough the mountains are higher on the french side, the views are sub par when compared with the Italien. The sun was shining and I enjoyed the day mountain biking. Over the next 5 hours I biked up the mountians, past waterfalls and through the small towns in Cogne. I returned at night to a 3 course supper and fell asleep immediately. When doing my research for this bike tour one of the suggestions was to eat the biggest breakfast you possible can. I am trying my best, but no matter how much I seem to eat I am hungry in a few hours. I am consuming 4 extra large meals per day and I must admit, Italy is probably the best country to have this mandate.

Waking up the third day I had to say goodbye to gran parc nacional del paradiso, as it was back to touring. I began my 90 km trek at 9 am. It took almost the entire day to cycle out of the Aosta region. If you are fortunate enough to visit italy, I highly suggest visiting the area. It is famous for a series of fairy tale castle’s that are all high up on the mountains and in direct view of each other. They used a flag system to communicate with each other back in the day. Everywhere you look you have huge mountains, with stunning castles jutting out. I cycled up to visit a few of them but as they are high up on the mountain, I couldn’t visit all of them. After 7 hours of cycling I reached Quincinetto and subsequently collapsed into a deep sleep. The cycling gods must have been looking after me as the second I set my tent up, it started to rain.

  By morning, the rain had stopped. I put my tent away (I am getting much quicker at this now), and started out on my grueling 100km trek to Arona on lake maggiore. Not too much to report, except I accidenteially ended up on the autostrada (bikes are prohibited for good reason, it is the italien version of the autobahn) and had to cycle till the next exit with cars and semi-trucks whizzing by. A policeman told me to get off the road. I listened…  Near the end of the trip a strange thing happened; my penis kept falling asleep as I cycled. This is the first time in my life that I have felt this sensation. Allthought not painful, it is quite annoying and a little worrisome. If anyone knows how to remedy this, don’t be shy! As I approached Arona there was a good 30km stretch where the all the trees smelt like perfume. I don’t know what kind of trees they were, but I felt like I was cycling through a chanelle factory. It was pleasant. At last I arrived at Lake maggiore. Having cycled over 300 km in the last 4 days with zero training I was dually exhausted. I remember catching myself laughing at nothing and i couldn’ t seem to wipe the smile off my face as it was finally settling in that I can do this, and do this for a long time! I set up my tent and slept over 14 hours until my tent turned into a oven and was forced to face the world…

The next day was very relaxing. Only 35km of cycling and it was on a FLAT and beautiful road. Built on the west side of the street was old and extravagant mansions with manicured lawns. The east side gives you fantastic views of lake maggiore complete with islands and a mountain backdrop. I arrived in Serra after a hour and a half of cycling, but had to continue onto Baveno as they didnt have any campgrounds. My home for the next 3 nights was directly on the gorgeous lake. After a enjoyable supper I returned to my campsite to find three 19year old german girls had set up camp beside me. Luckily they spoke English, I must admit after a week of not having any English conversations, I really enoyed their company. We got a little tipsy off of some wine and had a pleasant night.  

The following morning, I took my time getting out of bed. With no timelines and nowhere to cycle to, I relaxed, said goodbye my new german friends and headed to the ferry station to purchase a ticket to visit the Borromean islands. The first island I visited was Isolo Pescatori; a beautiful island to walk around and admire the architecture and gardens. However, it was the next island that was really spectacular. Isolo Bella has a large palace that the Borromeo family built as a summer get away. Construction had to be halted during the 1600’s when the plague broke out. Originally, the island was bare rock and a small fishing village existed there, not so anymore. The Borromeos haulded in untold quantities of soil, and built what must be one the most amazing gardens in the world. Complete with all manner of rare birds that walk the grounds unafraid of humans. It was in this palace that the stressa conference of 1958 was held, where Mussolini along with Pierre Flandin from France and Ramsay Macdonald of England wrote a charter trying to stave off world war two. As history shows, they were unsuccessful. One of the bedrooms is called the Napoleon room, as it was here that napoleon and Josephine slept. It is rumoured that napoleons entourage was so poorly behaved that the custodian of the island actually drafted and sent a letter complaining of their behaviour. When I stayed at Mystic Springs in Canmore Canada, I had a similar letter drafted about my entourage. 
I awoke the next morning to a rain storm. Luckily the rain ended as I finally started to move around. I am amazed at how tired my body must be; I am sleeping for 12 hours a night and would gladly keep on going. There is something refreshing about being this exhausted. Maybe it s the knowledge that the only way to feel this way is to have worked for it. A feeling that I haven’t had for some time. On my last ‘free’ day I decided to visit the last Borromean island that I wanted to see; Isolo Madre. Another fascinating island with a palace that is furnished with Italien masterpieces from the 16th to 19th century and a garden to compete with Isolo Bella.

 
After 2 days of relaxing, it was time to start heading south for the 250 km trek to Genoa. I had there by the 15th to meet my friend from Calgary, but living in Strasbourg; Morgin Mackie. I decided to take a small detour as I was told the views would be better in this new direction. Instead of heading directy towards Genoa I went a bit west and want through Vercelli. I was lied to. The views were quite borring, unless you find the views on highway 2 from Calgary to Edmonton exciting (sorry non canadiens). It was simply farm land after boring monotomous farm land. I had cycled about 8 hours when I decided I needed to stop. There was only one campground in the area, and it was invisible. After spending way too much time looking for it, the sky was turning dark and I decided to continue on and hopefully find somewhere else to sleep. It was around this time that the pain set it. My ass started to feel like I spent the day in prison. Every 10 minutes I would re-adjust myself on the seat and this brought a sharp pain as the blood once again flowed to my behind. After 10 hours of riding, and the sky completely dark I had to stop. Before I started the tour, I told myself that I would treat myself to a hotel once every 2 weeks. I couldn’t think of a better night. I carried on until I saw the first hotel sign. I must admit, that when it is dark out, it is quite scary when cars are whizzing by you in the dark. Luckily I found a nice hotel with a very sympathetic doorman, to stay for the night. The next day when I went onto google maps, I realized to my shock that I had cycled over 160 km the previous day! At this rate, I thought, I would be in Genoa in no time. How wrong I was.

Even after sleeping 12 hours, when I awoke, I was exhausted. My vision blurry and each step felt like a task. I hopped on my bike somewhat satisfied with the knowledge that I didn’t have too much farther to go today. Only 80km. I climbed onto my bike and slogged out onto the highway. To my grave dismay, it was windy. Very windy. Coming straight at me. Cycling lesson number 2: The wind can make or break you. Cycling became more akin to walking. Everytime I stopped pedalling, my bike would abrublty stop as if I had pulled on my breaks. I set a grueling pace at less  then 5km an hour. Everything started to annoy me, even the other cyclists. They all seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, with the wind at their back, on bikes with thin tires and no baggage going almost as fast as the cars. Then there was me; crawling along as slow as a herd of snails traveling through peanut buter. I swear one of them was even laughing at me. I continued on for 5-6 hours in which I covered next to no distance. The pain in my butt was becoming unbearable. When I got off my bike and walked around my butt was on fire, like someone was holding a lighter to it. Eventually I made it out of the farm land with the harsh wind and into the hills that protect genoa from the north. I found a campsite in a lovely town called Montoggio. I Set up camp and promptly lied down. Not a moment too soon as a heavy rain and wind storm blew in. I slept 14 hours and once again, woke up exhausted. I almost collapsed when I stood as my thighs were quiting on me. Today would be better I told myself. I had but 30 km to go. The rain and wind of the previous night completely rid the sky of any clouds. It was sunny, not too hot and I was surrounded by pleasant rolling hills. I had good music playing on my ipod and enjoyed the entire ride to Genoa. I had been warned that Genoa is not a very esthetically pleasing city. However, there is lots of history in this city. After all it is the birthplace of Christopher Columbus and some of the surrounding buildings and palaces speak to the lost grandeur this city must have once had. In 2004 it was voted as a European centre of culture. At one point it was the most important port in the world. Upon arrival I checked into the hostel where I would be meeting Morgin, had a shower, got a coffee and a pizza and wrote the rest of my blog. Now I am going to sleep.

We were excited for our next leg of the tour as we transited across the border into the lovely little lush sliver of land known as Malawi. At this point we were set to meet Toms legendary friend Anders Karlsson (aka Son of Karl), a school-mate of Toms from his time as an exchange student in Korea last year. Anders hails from the cold and barren land of the Vikings, now currently designated as the country of Sweden, where people don’t really do much of anything, including the politicians. We got off to a raucous start at the Mzuzuzu Hostel in Northern Malawi. We were spending the night in a barn when a hot and heavy dance party broke out. It was an all night affair, as we sung along to Queen hits, and practiced our bow hunting skills by firing arrows into the campsite. Dan came down with a severe case of mass discharge (horrendous diarrhea with unstoppable vomiting). The next night started out similarily as the previous; heavy drinking and partying. We befriended two local police officers who insited on taking us around town to party. The officers, named Stanley and Douglas took us to one bar that was chalked full of prostitues. Stanley commented “First we arrest them, then we fuck them”, or “first we fuck them, then we arrest them”. Thankfully they didn’t arrest any hookers that night.

  We woke up early the next day and made our way to the little piece of paradise known as Nkhata Bay. Lake Malawi is an extremely deep chasm in the earth, as its formed from two tectonic plates moving apart, forming part of the rift valley that runs from Mozambique all the way up to Israel. We spent the days there snorkeling amongst the colourful fish of schistomiasis infected Lake Malawi, and living in a private chalet held up by stilts on the waters edge for less than $5 a night. We made new friends of various ethnicities including life long friends with our Japanese and Korean fellow travelers who we would run into many more times in our travels, as well as a little black cat that has a special place in our hearts forever. We made friends with locals with such names as Lemon Squeezy, Happy Coconut, Cool Breeze and Fresh Coconut. Anders adopted the alter ego of Coconut Biscuit, and Tom became simply Bouncer. We went for a late night fishing trip where we ended up putting more fish into the lake than we took out, in the form of bait. But it was a great time out in the moonlight on our bobbing little raft. Although we thought about stealing the cat, we thought it might pose too many problems at the border, so we opted to leave him sleeping on the porch. We left Nkhata Bay for the capital city Lilongwe. However we somehow ended up picking up a stray female German tourist, who scraggled along with us. However this turned out to be a poor decision, as we lost our seats in the car, and Dan and Tom ended up having to hitch-hike almost the entire length of Malawi, which involved an incredible amount of time sitting at the roadside eating semi-ripened papayas and banana’s with police officers. We were very happy to arrive at Mabuya Camp in the big city 18 hours later. We spent a few days in the city, attending the grand opening of the new parliament buildings; yet another project in Africa funded entirely by the Chinese government. It was a grandiose affair, however slightly bewildering and confusing. After a little R&R at the pool the four of us headed out for our next destination, Zambia.

 Zambia

The trip into Zambia was rather uneventful with the usual cast of characters on the bus including a rather impassioned preacher who cursed our souls to damnation before we headed out onto the bumpy dusty roads of Eastern Zambia. After many hours by car we ended up in a place that cannot be described in words. We were staying on the banks of the Luangwe River, at maybe the coolest place we have ever stayed in our lives. We had accommodation in luxury safari tents where we were graced with the presence of 6,000 lb Hippos who would migrate out of the river every night and munch on the grass all around our tents. It was actually extremely dangerous, and Anders and Tom foolishly chased the hippos on a few occasions, and risked life and limb trying to inspect the hippos around the camp. The hippo is the most dangerous animal in Africa, killing more people than any other animal, especially when they come out of the water at night and become ultra aggressive. However, during the day they wallow in the river barking and bellowing all day long, providing endless entertainment for the humans on shore. The river is also full of Crocodiles, whereas the camp itself is inhabited with all kinds of animals. One day we came back to our tent to discover that all of our bags had been ripped apart, and our stuff was strewn everywhere, we realized quickly that the culprit was not a human but some baboons who jimmied the tent door, and proceeded to open every zipper on all of our bags, taking nothing but a little box of coconut biscuits from Anders’ bag. The camp also had a swimming pool with a slide where we spent many hours in the heat of the Zambian sun, drinking amarula’s and doing back-flips and dives into the pool. Our game drives through the park could not have been filled with more animals, and we all agree that this was maybe the most enjoyable game park we have been to in Africa as of yet. As previously alluded to in the blog, we managed to finally see the very illusive Leopard. Not only did we see one, but during our night drive, after seeing one leopard in a tree during daylight, we spotted another one thanks to the screeching of the baboons in a nearby tree giving the warning call for leopards. The cat ended up crossing right in front of our truck, and sat directly in front of us on the road. Then we noticed what the baboons were really screaming at, as we shone the flood light over to the tree and realized there was ANOTHER leopard climbing the tree to kill and eat one of the baboons. However, luckily for the baboons, leopards are extremely territorial animals, and the two of them, faced off in a challenge for territory. The larger one chased off the smaller one, literally no more than 15 feet from our car as they ran past. Just when we thought it couldn’t get any crazier, a lone Hyena came rushing into the scene to try and take advantage of the pandemonium of the whole fiasco. All of this while we sat in the back of an open top land cruiser with no roof, or doors. Our guide who has been doing this for over 30 years has never seen anything so hectic in his whole career.  As everything must come to an end, we sadly departed Flat-Dogs camp at South Luangwe park, and we were lucky to find a half priced flight clear across Zambia to Victoria Falls, the biggest waterfall in the world. Poor Anders was not so lucky, and had to take more than 30 hours of buses to meet us in Vic Falls more than 3 days later.

Anders arrived all bleary-eyed just as Tom and Dan were departing for an all you can drink booze cruise on the Zambezi river, where we indulged ourselves in strong drink as we lazed past some of the biggest crocodiles and hippos we had seen yet in all of Africa. The skippers on board the boat gave us good company and scenery. They were blessed with the remarkable names of Carrington, Boniface and Greensons. It became a tumultuous night with our new friends, as we terrorized the town, and Jolly Boys backpackers where a few dozen of us whiled away the night in the hot tub and pool, coercing with local rastas and gypsys alike. Tom arrived home without his beloved sandals, however he was adorned with a new hat as well as some jewellery given to him by our rasta friends. We were all excited the next day to go with the now recuperated Anders to the incredible spectacle of Victoria Falls. Victoria Falls is a gorge where the Zambezi river flows with over 1 million cubic metres of water per second, and the mist rises far into the air like a towering skyscraper. Not only was the water at peak flow for the year, but freak rain-falls in Angola made the flow larger and stronger than it had been for many years, making the falls as spectacular as they ever get. The spray from the falls as you get close can only be compared to being doused with a fire hose, and within seconds you are drenched to the core. We were foolish enough to bring books and passports in our bags, and ended up leaving the area with many litres of water soaked into our various belongings. The border between Zambia and Zimbabwe is a bridge that straddles the Zambezi river gorge, where the adrenaline junkie Dan decided to bungy jump into the gorge. It is 110M high, and Dan did a combo of one bungy jump, and a gorge swing where you jump off the platform and then swing out into the gorge. After the excitement, we crossed into the fascinating country of Zimbabwe.