Not all our Tour riders are incredibly quick.  Not speaking of their mental sharpness of course, but of their cycling speed.  Naturally there are many good reasons to not cycle quickly; enjoying the scenery, eating berries by the road, taking pictures of wild turkeys, climbing a tree, swimming in a creek, napping under a log, playing with the street dogs, standing around feeling cool in spandex, speaking with a tractor driver… A few cyclists though jettison out into the cool early mornings with speed on their minds.  In the case of the Orient Express this year that would be Mark Peters and Adam Birkin.    Their lust for speed and the unquenchable thirst they have for pushing themselves physically has led them to not only surpass, but to positively shatter the previous recorded fastest times on this Tour.  Sure, you might ask “but I thought the Orient Express wasn’t a race?” and of course you would be utterly correct, there is no race element and we don’t actually record anyone’s time for the day.  O.K., so we’re really just making a bold statement without any facts to back it up, but let it be.  We’re pretty sure that they are very fast and deserve some kind of accolades. 

  Adam, a photojournalist, at times cycles over 40km/per hour, and still manages to snap amazing shots of the roadside attractions.  Mark, a German, also cycles over 40km/per hour, and on his hand held computer connects to myriad wifi zones along the route, allowing him to solve, in real time, problems related to his occupation.  This is the kind of cycling and life spirit which makes all of us on the Orient Express a fortunate bunch.

  Luckily, there is one place where there is no rush for any of our cyclists; and that is camp.  Once arriving the leisure begins.  At times there are certain duties involved with maintaining ones’ cycle, but for the most part, with bliss and deserved euphoria, as if stuck in the most pleasant molasses, people slow down to the quietest pace, moving about the camp with dream-like smiles. 

  The jack-rabbits though are ready to pounce, waiting for the next mornings’ ride, preparing to unleash their lust for speed.

Is it possible for titles to be unrelated to the subject matter which they precede?Sure, the title above could be seen as an example of that; except that somehow this title may shed some light on the trials which a cyclist attempting to cross Europe can encounter. Let’s take Paul Davidson, a rider who has participated on the Tourd’Afrique in it’s entirety, as well as previously cycling sections on the Orient Express (Budapest to Istanbul) as well as the Silk Route (Istanbul to Ashgabat) A man of preternatural navigational ability, a keen sense of humor, and a set of very small wheels.Through 4 days of cycling from Regensburg, Germany to Emmersdorf, Austria, Paul and the rest of our fearless O.E. participants stuck to the Donau Cycle Trail; soaking up it’s serenity, it’s graveled sections, and, luckily, it’s possibilities for curried bratwurst stops. Our final day of the cycling week, which led us to our current locale, Vienna, took a different turn… The night before our cycle to Vienna the sky turned upside down, with clouds opening up and delivering a chorus of raindrops on all our tents which could not be quelled. However, never dreary or droll, Paul and the gang awoke with enthusiasm in the wet dawn, packed up their bags, ate some hot oats, filled their voluminous mugs with coffee and focused on the day of cycling ahead. Paul cycled off on his own, following the small signs for the bike trail seen through his fogged up spectacles; unfortunately the unrelenting rain made map reading difficult, and with heightened attention on the slippery road surface ahead and not on the directional signs, he was caught by what for a cyclist is a kind of mouse trap. If one has ever driven a car in Europe, they may remember that finding the motorways appears to be an incredibly easy chore. Is this due to a heightened ability to navigate the roadways of foreign countries compared to our own? If we should be so lucky…, actually Euro motorways send out giant traction beams (in the form of enormous city direction signs) which incessantly pull motor vehicles towards their on ramps, only to spit them out later at their driver’s destination. Paul’s bike was caught in one of these traction beams, and despite his best efforts was unable to escape its’ pull. Suddenly finding oneself on their bicycle entering the autobahn is really bad enough. To add insult to injury though, the Austrians are a group who have never shied away from telling a person who has made a mistake that they’ve done so. With motorists in their dullish Mercedes purposefully slowing down to yell “Verboten!!!” out their half opened windows (so as not to be too affected by the pummeling rain) Paul cycled miserably onwards. Luckily, being an O.E. participant, Paul is nothing if not resourceful, so within a couple of kilometers, he was able to escape the trap, scaling a small fence after climbing a reasonably accessible embankment. Finding himself on a smaller road, he tuned his mental compass to locate the Donau, set his bike in a downstream direction and began once again cycling the ever pleasant trail towards Vienna. (Mind you on slippery paths and in a torrential rain storm, but at least their was one of the grandest cities in Europe at the end of it all) To Paul who is leaving the group in Budapest. Happy trails! To Bob, Gloria and Walburga who have joined us in Vienna. Welcome aboard!

The Orient Express Bicycle Tour presents many wonders, challenges and bemused laughter.  Yes, bemusement.  My last time working on the Tour was as the Chef in 2006.   Earlier that year I had worked as the Chef on our African Expedition, the Tour d’Afrique.  Europe seemed like it would be a breeze…  

Paris is glorious Paris.  The architectural, artistic highlights everyone knows, the hot summer nights, people packed into small streets, along canals, drinking and jovial.  There is a freedom that pervades the senses, and the early mornings tend to welcome the all night revelers, sitting roadside at never ending cafes and bars.  My Paris experience that year was as odd as most of my experiences.  My mission was to find a teapot.  Funny enough, but brewing nice coffee out of a camp kitchen everyday for thirsty early morning cyclists is very important, and a decent tea pot, some cheese cloth, and a medium grind coffee does the job.  At first my attempts circled around central Paris and classic French cooking equipment stores, as a trained Chef I was in heaven, but 200 Euro copper teapots stunned the consciousness.  The orbit of my search grew steadily further from Paris’s centre, pushing into less discovered communities, into side lanes, and of course, into endless stores full of knick knacks, which stocked every possible item, but for a teapot.  On and on the search went, the strong heat making the endless trees of Paris’s boulevards feel magnetic to wanderers such as myself.  At last in a community to the east of centre, I found a small Turkish-run store where they had a teapot which was of the appropriate size, material, and ruggedness.  I jumped for joy and bought 2 of them.

 

Each morning on the Orient Express Tour is unique.  With the exception of freshly brewed coffee you never really know what will happen, and of course, what the day will bring.  The cyclists pack up their tents for the day (if we’ve camped the night before) and enjoy a quick breakfast, before mounting their bicycles for what will be a day full of pedaling, watching sights stream by, stopping for a pastry, or even a big piece of cake, and talking to the locals…

 

If the day’s ride happens to be in Bavaria, which we do pass through, then talking to the locals can be incredibly interesting.  Personally I find Bavarians some of the strangest people on earth.  Somehow German, though somehow not.  They have a habit of close talking; this is the practice of standing extremely close to you when in conversation.  There is one campsite owner there in particular who would almost stand with his feet on my toes, his eyes ogling mine from the closest of distances, his Bavarian hat’s brim gently brushing my forehead.  Speaking in a heavily accented German, which unfortunately I couldn’t comprehend, he spoke on and on, in his intense close talking position.  Eventually I realized he would like to lead me into his home for an icy Bavarian Brew, it was then I realized close talking could lead to positive outcomes, and while I was sipping that cold beer, I felt at peace in southern Germany.

 

A campsite is a campsite, and a hotel is a hotel.  Well, not exactly.  On the Orient Express Tour there are some memorable, I would even say, extra special, places we reside for the night.  While Western Europe tends to bring more straightforward accommodation, Romania and the East can present more original options.  I’ve been dreaming a lot of the new spots we’ll camp at this year in Transylvania.  I’ll be driving our Company Van along our route in Eastern Europe early this Spring, and hope to find some beautiful locales, surrounded by lush green hills and fast running streams (I’m dreaming of this of course, but am certain to find something unique) One thing that is sure to be there are the lively Romanians!  A habit I’ve never fully gotten used to but chuckle at is the Romanian Male’s since of bravado.  Do not be surprised to see men walking around with their shirts pulled up to expose their, not always so trim, bellies.  Nothing like a hairy belly to tell the world how tough you are…anyway, you can try it while riding your bike if you like.

 

Now, to arrive at the essence of this little message, I would like to welcome all of you to this year’s edition of the Orient Express Tour.  I will be with you from Paris to Istanbul, cooking your meals on camp nights, and helping organize the day to day adventure.  The countries we travel through on this trip never cease to award those who take the time to explore them, and as always, what better way than by the seat of a bicycle!  Take care and see you in Paris.