Col d'Iseran and Alpe d'Huez

Getting to The French Alps

There is only one airport that is reasonably handy for the French Alps – Geneva. But, for a quick, fully-loaded getaway, Geneva is only of use if you are cycling close by or plan to get a train. The latter is awkward as travel south can require several changes, while cycling, once you've navigated your way out of Geneva, might restrict you to perhaps the Annecy-Ugine-Sallanches area.

Lyon Saint Exupery is another option but will require 3 hour+ train journeys to get near to the Isere/Arc/Romanche valleys for the nitty gritty of major climbs - the main train station at Saint Exupery is TGV only. There is an airport train into Lyon - the opposite direction to the big stuff. 

For week+ trips the above options are feasible while bearing in mind that you may have an airport to get back to.

This year I decided to succumb to the lure of the train. In terms of getting there quickly,  flying seemingly wins hands down. Instead, I finished work, grabbed my pre-packed panniers and left London on a Eurostar at 16.30 and was cycling out of Grenoble Station 18 hours later, having splashed out on a Paris hotel. I’d dropped the naked bike off at London StP a couple of days before.

The plane while quicker lays on a level of stress you don’t get with trains. Getting to the airport to check-in for the 06.25 Lyon flight, which really means getting to airport at 03.45 to dismantle the bike, squeeze into the legendary CTC bag - while coordinating tools and sharps - and get to the front of the queue. Geneva from Heathrow is not much later. Once through security there is the niggling worry about what state the bike will be in when you are reunited in the baggage hall – as said, I use the CTC plastic bag and not fancy-dan hard boxes - or if it’s there at all. My bike was not on a Geneva flight on one occasion. My bike has never suffered in a CTC bag but there is always a first time. And, you have all to do again for the return.

The Eurostar arrived in Paris and I used the RER – tickets can be bought at the buffet on the Eurostar – to get to Gare du Lyon. Getting to and from the RER line D platform is a bit awkward but it’s only a ten-minute journey with one intermediate stop to Gare de Lyon. Bikes are not permitted on RER during peak times. 

The next morning, I was wide-eyed and bushy tailed at Hall 2 for my 07.41 TGV departure to Grenoble. One tricky thing is finding the TGV service that takes an assembled bike. There is no turn up and go on the off-chance on a TGV. Most TGVs simply don’t have bike spaces. Both bike and seat have to be booked in advance and at the same time – plenty of advice in English at the SNCF site. Currently it is a tenner for a bike on a TGV that carries them.

In terms of cost, from London the plane is a little cheaper than the train/hotel combo. Both require paying extra for the bike or bags. BA are now £60 each way while Eurostar are £30 each way.

Trains are more conducive to a wee forty winks than planes and so the three-hour journey breezed by at 160mph.

The other no-brainer advantage of the train that trumps everything the plane offers is that you wheel the bike off the train and away you go. 

So, after five minutes pedalling from Grenoble station, I was heading up the broad Isere valley beneath the remarkable mountains of La Chartreuse to Montmelian to catch an Intercites train to Bourg Saint Maurice. 

After a rambling, scenic ride up I pitched up at the pleasant Camping Reclus, a km beyond BStM towards Seez.

The Col D’Iseran at 2764m is the true giant of the Alpine cycle climbs having the highest paved pass in Europe. The Col de la Bonnette’s 2802m includes a vanity loop at the top increase its height. The road doesn’t go anywhere so doesn’t really count. The 3380m Pico de Veleta does not go anywhere either and the road is actually closed to motorised traffic above 2560m.

But, for all that height, the Col D’Iseran is a gentle giant. The average gradient over the full-sized version, the 28-mile climb from BStM, is just over 4% with nothing (supposedly) in double-figures. Climbbybike shows nothing in the 7-10% range either but that is debatable as I certainly found myself on at 8% at times.

The legendary D902 up to Tignes was busy on the Friday at 08.30 as it was the rush hour, seemingly. This means big construction lorries groaning by. The road rose very gradually until the hairpins at Le Baptieu – and the first coffee stop. From there the hill began in earnest. Once the traffic had thinned out the ride became very peaceful. There were just three of us. A French woman tourer out for a month and heading to Nice, and an Englishman on a road bike moving as slowly as it is possible with out toppling over. It is a rare moment that I, a fully-loaded tourer, overtake another cyclist let alone one perched upon a featherlight carbon. And so, I put my foot in my mouth: ‘I admire your patience!’ He shouted back ‘I have all day to get there!’ That was certainly the case, depending on where he meant by ‘there’ as I was relying upon most of the day to get there and down the other side. Both cyclists eventually fell back and faded into the gloomy mist and so it was just me and my whirring cogs and chain and the occasional vehicle. The silence is great as long as your mind doesn’t drift too much onto the matter of how much further does this £$”$ &%!! go on for, or, what is exactly wrong with an all-inclusive beach holiday with bike hire thrown in, or, does my bum look big in these shorts?

The D902

Anyone who has done a few cols in the French Alps will be familiar with this road. It carries the Route Des Grand Alpes over Iseran, Telegraphe/Galibier, Lautaret, Izoard, Vars and Cayolle to the French Riviera. It is a difficult road to follow at times as, having started in Thonon les Bains, it disappears then reappears randomly as it is absorbed into other roads. It vanishes again at the border with Alpes Maritimes only to pop up again towards Provence.

Unfortunately, the weather provided poor visibility on what is reputedly a very attractive and ravine-laden climb. The severe drops on the right-hand side of the road were obscured by the ever-present eerie mist.

Eventually there are a series of avalanche tunnels and full-on tunnels to negotiate as the road approaches Val D’Isere. 

Pack plenty of underwear...

Lights are a must. I even brought a high-viz for the occasion. If you have real concerns about tunnels, you might want to research this climb a wee bit more.

I was overtaken by road bikers on a Le Cure British charity ride for breast cancer. The hundred or so riders sped past on slivers of carbon to their support vehicle. The British are very good talkers – I could hear their voices resonating about the valley and they were all in good chatter as they passed me with a ‘well done’ as my steel steed creaked and whirred.

I have ascended the 2700m+ climbs of de la Bonnette, the Stelvio and Agnel, all stubbornly loaded.  As with any big hill you need settle down and pace yourself for perhaps four or even five hours of climbing.  I expected 7km an hour dragging my bulging panniers, tent and the wheels of steel. I have 32 on the back and 22 on the front and for the most part I managed the climb in granny +1 and 2 though you might run up against 10% on the cambers of hairpins.

The naff weather did have three advantages – no stifling heat needing frequent water stops, no stopping for photos, and no flies.

The climb is broken up by several winter-sports oriented villages, being the val D’isere, and eventually you reach Val D’Isere itself, a proper town nestling in the valley at 1800m and the half-way point of the climb. 

The main coffee shop was full and standing, every seat occupied by the chattering and guffawing charity ride, steam rising from their pink shirts. I slunk over to the other side of the main drag to an empty café where I added on a few layers for the chilly business end of the climb. I was apprehensive about the thinning oxygen that occurs at 2000m+. Having done plenty of climbs above this height and not noticed anything special, I wasn’t too worried, but, combined with the cold weather, and a smattering of icy rain here and there, it could be a problem.

The higher you get on the big cols, the less cover there is as the tree-line recedes below and invariably you’ll enter a desolate, wind-blown landscape of rubble strewn with lumps of dirty snow.  The charity riders – full on cakes and coffee - were thinning out and much less chatty – as they huffed and puffed through the mist. There will be a bog and perhaps a wee lake to one side - the source of a what may be a mighty river such as the Isere or Arc – the higher you are the bigger the river will be. The Rhine and the Rhone finish their journeys to a sea some 700 miles apart, yet their sources are within 15 miles of each other, either side of the Matterhorn.

Towards the top the weather was colder and damper but fortunately there was no wind. I’d stocked up with oaty bars, a couple of bananas, and still had a gel left over from stuffing my pockets at a Ride100 feed station. They are disgusting but do the job in giving you a 15-minute boost just when you really need it. This got me to the top after I’d availed of a handy wooden shelter for a wee (and wee) break.

There is very little at the top of the Iseran. Some cols are tourist hubs – the Stelvio, is almost a village; on the other hand, the Bonnette, at least when I was there, has nothing. Set back from the road atop the D’Iseran, there is a chapel of some interest to those who have an interest in chapels but, of more interest to most who ascend this ascent, is the col’s cosy café. This was packed full of the steaming charity riders chomping away the dwindling supply of cakes.

I managed to squeeze onto a table to consume my croque man or woman before heading down the other side. Always make sure everything is attached to the bike as it should be before hurtling down.

On a loaded bike you are an unusual beast on these very big climbs. Everyone on carbon flies past you on the way up, probably snatching a double-take at the panniers and tent and steel as they do so. They sip their espressos at the top as you trundle to the summit sign for your selfie. They often clap. But down the other side they can’t get rid of you. Depending on your level of road-handling skills and foolhardiness, you may even overtake them. More double-takes.

The first mile of the descent was in mist and steep with a few hairpins so I reined in the wheels of steel to 15mph while I sorted out the dicey bit. These few minutes also give you time to get used to or reacquainted with the stopping distance of the bike. But once the road had straightened a little and the mist had dissipated, I touched 30 along spectacular ravines heading down towards the immense Arc Valley. Even in the gloom beneath leaden skies, this was a magnificent descent; on a good day it must be breath-taking.

There are plenty of villages with campsites and hotels down the spectacular Arc valley – Termingon is quite unusual - but once you get to Modane the traffic gets busier and so, after a night in Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis, I hopped on a train from Modane back to Grenoble.

Arc Valley near Modane

getting bike on train - arguably tougher task than the Col

Cycling alone

All my adventures to this point had been with one or two compadres. Cycling with another has benefits:

-          You are with a friend: you can share the ups and downs and you can prattle on about them for years to come, getting everything in a muddle.

-          Someone can look after the bikes when the other is hunting and gathering in the cavernous supermercados and supermarches of the continent.

-          Someone to confirm that you are indeed lost.

-          Someone to eat and drink with.

-          Someone to recount the ‘champagne moment’ of the day with as check-out operatives do not take kindly to this role.

-          Two can be more economic than one – camping pitches, twin rooms etc and you don’t have to drink the entire bottle of bottom-shelf wine to get your money’s worth.

-          Share the load with tools.

Cycling alone also has its benefits.

-          You can go at your pace or not even go at all – bail and take the train instead.

-          You do not have to consider anyone else’s needs such as mid-shelf wine.

-          You can save a bundle by not drinking

-          You can enjoy the peace of just you and the road – or the train.

Trouble is that whenever my cycle buddies and I pass solo riders enjoying the peace at their own pace, they always look a bit sad. One is also apprehensive about engaging in conversation where you run the risk of having to listen politely to several weeks’ worth of champagne moments that have been bottled up by the lone rider. They may also ask if they can join you for dinner.

I cycled from the station at Gieres, in south Grenoble, up to Vizille to join the D1091, one of the principal routes of the French Alps, to get to Bourg D’Oisans (BDO) This is not a very nice ride. Even with the steepening tree-covered valley, the wide and busy road and the grey, featureless Romanche make for an unattractive two hour slog up to BDO.

BDO, like Bedoin in Provence, is a mecca for cyclists, as it sits at the base of a legendary climb. Look way up and you can see the hotels of Alpe d’Huez leaning over the edge of the valley, and, in between, the great climb wriggles its way up.

The rather nice Cascades campsite

With four campsites, BDO is kind to budget trips and cyclo-campers. The sites all have chalets of varying degrees of confort for rent (not overnight stays though) if camping is not your thing. There are a few hotels dotted about. BDO is well-placed for several big climbs as well as Huez. Glandon, Croix de la Fer, Galibier, Lautaret, Ornon, are nearby and there are lots of smaller work-outs about, especially the other Alpe d’Huez route from Lac du Verney at the foot of the Glandon. There are bike hire outlets if you want to give the steel a day off and cruise up the hairpins on carbon. Plenty of bars and restaurants make BDO a good base.

Sunday morning and a cloudless sky. Brilliant sunshine spread out and warmed the somewhat chilly valley as the sun rose. So, while that all went on, I dashed to the huge Carrefour store for goodies. Stores stay open until 12.30 if they open at all on Sundays.

Having dumped my supplies, I turned right out of the Cascades campsite on my wheels of steel, liberated from its weighty burdens, and, within a few seconds, was on the very steep ramp to the left. Alpe D’Huez does not mess about. 

There is no pleasant valley prelude - you are straight into 10% virtually all the way up to the hamlet of La Garde, where the gradient briefly relents to 6%. I took the climb as easily as possible alternating between granny and granny+1 while young bucks breezed past me on their carbon. Another big ride from England chattered away as they left me in my nonchalance. 

The hairpins offer great views over the Romanche valley – it is a spectacular ride. After La Garde, the steep gradient returns though the road stretches out for a while as it heads east up the valley of the Sarenne river. It eventually leaves that behind and resumes the hairpins a third of the ride through that take you up to Huez – just beyond half-way. On most of the bends the road was covered with TDF riders’ names in a multitude of colours. 

Another murder of hairpins (my choice for a collective noun) awaits you after Huez that takes you through Dutch corner to the last km or so.  It is always a bit odd to find a large village or town at the top of a climb. You have been embroiled in your personal challenge for a number of hours, sweating buckets, enduring nefarious pains and battling negative thoughts the positive to arrive at a place where everything has just been going on normally; people float about in cars as if to say – you could have just driven up, pal. Even so, there is always the top – the climax, the top, the signpost, the finish line! Well, not on Alpe d’Huez. I passed two cyclists scratching their heads at the entrance of a service road thinking that was the finishing straight. I got to the town and continued to just short of the tunnel under the hotel before I realised I had passed the ‘top’. I backtracked to the underwhelming sign for a selfie before being referred to another sign and another ‘top’ fifty yards back. To cut a long story short, the top(s) on the town’s main drag are not the actual top, they are the tops of the event though I still do not know which one the official top is, if such a title exists. 

Bit disappointing. To make up for that is the bustling café that sits between to the two signs. The previously mentioned big ride was in full attendance and the sole waiter was worked off her feet and my coffee took an almost unbearable while to arrive. Then it’s back on the bike to hurtle down.

The climb is very short compared to cols – only 13.2 km or 7.42 in pounds and it is over before you know it. My ascent places me at 76500^th or so out 81500 riders on Strava! – Romain Bardet has the #1 spot. On the descent, I am 30000^th out 38500. So, as well as meaning that I descend better than I ascend, that stat shows there are over 40000 riders that never came back!

This ride took place at the autumnal end of August and I was lucky with the weather in that it didn’t rain, though the first climb was through mist. It was a wee bit nippy at night. This time of year has it’s good and bad points. Accommodation – including camping - is more available, less congested and cheaper. Campsites are usually quiet either side of peak season as the kids are back at school. The roads are not packed with caravans and motorhomes. It is not unbearably hot. But, if there are cons, the weather is unsettled, some bars and restaurants close to take a breather before the ski season, so evenings can be a bit eerie as the shutters slam down. It is also gets darker earlier – especially in shady corners of steep-sided valleys.

I took a few trains, as mentioned. https://www.oui.sncf is a good place to start with regards to French trains but the process of finding TGVs with bike spaces is a bit clunky. SNCF no longer have a UK site so there is no telephone option other that calling France. The SNCF site has train and timetable information – train services are identified by a number. Other regional and local (Intercites and Ter) trains are simply turn up and go with no need for reservations. The Ter are the best equipped for bicycles while the Intercites are awkward to get aboard. Remember to vaildate your ticket in the yellow machines before boarding.

Hook to Hook

For anyone out there within easy distance of Harwich, Stena Line run a very handy ferry to the Hook of Holland. To maximise your saddle-time, this has an overnight crossing that leaves towards midnight and arriving at 8am-ish. Trains run to Harwich International, which is beside the embarkation area, direct from Liverpool Street, Chelmsford, Colchester or you can get other services and change at Manningtree.

Once off the boat, you are a short ride from a web of cycle paths that cover this small, flat country and make the Netherlands very accessible by cycle.

Our route was a simple one – to follow the coast, more or less, north then east to finish near the Germany border. This would conveniently complete the 900-mile English Channel route from Roscoff that I and cycling buddies have ridden - bit by bit - over the last few years.

The Ferry

The 19.32 from Liverpool Street arrives just before 9pm with plenty of time to board. This is an off-peak train with the bikes going into random carriages. Reservations are not required with Greater Anglia. There is a wee cycle from the train to the check-in, followed by a peculiar spiral of a ramp before heading back down to get onto the ferry.

The ferry has cabins that can be booked quite cheaply for single overnight use but means a return journey adds up to at least £150ish (May 2018), a tad pricy though you can get two full days of cycling on the first and last days of your tour. A clear case of opportunity cost. There are restaurants and bars with the usual ferry fare. The breakfast is expensive but can be pre-booked at a discounted price.

The Netherlands vs Holland

Holland was once a region of the Netherlands but in 1840 was split into the present-day North and South Holland districts on the western side of the country. The country is a less than a third in size of that of England with less than a third of the population. Excluding waters, the Netherlands has a density of 510 ppl per sq. km), making it very cramped. The bulk of the population live across the middle in the conurbation of Den Haag, Amsterdam and Rotterdam. All of this means that the area around the Hook is busy! Much of its land is either very close to sea level or has been reclaimed and is subject to flooding and is protected by dykes that, collectively, should be one of the wonders of the modern world.

Day One Hook to t’Zand. 85 miles

For the most part, we followed LF1, a north/south national cycle path, whose GPX can be downloaded from www.hollandcyclingroutes.com. This stuck to the coast for the main with a few suburbs of Den Haag, Haarlem and Ijmuiden thrown in for variety. After a few early rush-hour stragglers in ‘s Gravenzande and Monster we reached the coast for one of the Netherland’s very few natural sights – the dunes. Virtually every aspect of this country is man-made with nearly 17% of the land having been reclaimed and, without its dykes and flood control, half the country would be underwater. While the dunes are natural they have been managed and encouraged by the planting of binding shrubs, grass and trees though they still manage to retain a wild look. 2018 is seeing a re-paving of many of the LF routes and the path through the dunes was excellent and varied with some rare, roller-coaster hillage to be found. With the sea being kept at bay with dykes and said dunes, it is not often visible though small resorts, sprinkled along the sands between the major coastal towns, offer a glimpse of the browny-grey murkiness of the Nord Zee from the saddle.

Having turned down the opportunity of the €15 euro breakfast on the boat we were in need of a coffee and cake stop. At Sheveningen we were introduced to Apple pie and cream - appeltaart en slagroom, which hit the spot. The Dutch coffee, however, didn’t.

At Noordwijk we cut inland to have a look at the tulip fields of the Duin en Bollenstreek (dune and bulb region). These are best seen in the spring/mid-April for their famous patchwork fields of vivid colours - vibrant blues, reds, yellows, greens - by mid-May and it’s all over bar the shouting – well, a few lingering fields were still in bloom – the less popular colours such as beige and magnolia.

The route glanced by Haarlem before our lunch stop in Driehus, a suburb south of Ijmuiden. If you have never heard of Dutch cuisine there is a reason – they have none – indigenous cuisine that is. Just as some say Britain does not have a climate – it has weather; the Dutch don’t have cuisine, they have food. Needless to say, chips are a popular dish. For pudding, it is quite likely you will be offered the previously mentioned apple pie and cream – perhaps not a great idea to have it twice in one day.

Ijmuiden looks awkward to get through but Strava just took us to the ferry – free for bikes – that runs every ten minutes or so across the enormous NoordzeeKanaal, around which Ijmuiden has grown.

After Beverwijk, it was back to the dunes through Castricum and Egmond aan Zee. This path wriggles about in a disconcerting variety of directions and when it actually went briefly south we took another path and lo and behold, with us being so knowledgeable of the area – not, this path went south-east before taking us on a deviation worthy of Dad’s Army. 

There is really little excuse for bungles these days as most mobile data plans include roaming in the EU. But, I had loaded a ‘lite’ version of the Benelux openstreet maps onto the Garmin 810 to try to avoid any of the software events I’d enjoyed with my Garmin on previous trips. ‘Lite’ meant the maps showed virtually nothing – especially other route options. We eventually caught up with the correct route just as it nestled in beside a sea dyke just after Groet. 

From Petten we headed north east through Sint Maartenzee to ‘t Zand and the Hotel Ark.

This sleepy village either side of the Den Helder-Amsterdam canal, the Noorhollandsch Kanaal, was the only place we could find with a reasonably priced hotel in this area, the trekkershuts having all been booked up. Still, there was a pleasant bar a few yards over the lock gates that served food.

Trekkershutten (www.trekkershutten.nl/en)

These are chalets usually bookable in the Netherlands (and Belgium, notably in Ypres) by the night unlike those in France that require booking for three nights or more. In the main they are quite basic with no cooking, toilet or washing facilities. They also require that you bring your own bedding for the bunkbeds. At €40+ for the night they are good value as they can sleep up to four adults. They require booking well in advance as each campsite may only have two or three chalets. Some require money upfront while others just need payment upon arrival.

There are trekkershutten at Callanstoog and in Alkmaar but these had already been nabbed by early birds.

Day Two ‘t Zand to Holwerd 72 miles

Hugging the coast, LF10 heads eastwards to the border with Germany and crosses Afsluitdijk, which dominated the morning’s adventure. 

After meandering over to Den Oever, we alighted this wonder of the industrial world.

This 20-mile dyke separated the Zuiderzee from the Waddenzee to create the Ijsselmeer, the huge freshwater lake in the middle of the Netherlands. It took five years to build in between the wars. It is home to a dual-carriageway and a cycle path. Locks at either end allow vessels through while massive sluices control the flow of water and generate electricity. Half-way along is the man-made island of Breezanddijk.

The ride was seemingly simply a matter of mind over matter – 20 miles in a straight line with the same view in every direction. Will I go doolally and do a wobbly because it is boring? Will the headwind do me in? Neither of these were a bother. What was a bother was the incessant noise of the motor traffic roaring past (speed limit = 81mph). But that was nothing compared to the real bother.

We had stopped for a coffee at a cabin by the harbour in Den Oever just before the start. There was something fishy in the air plus a few flies. They looked more like horse flies than the bog standard, invasive fly. They didn’t bite or harass, they just hovered about. We finished the coffee and started off along the dyke to find that these flies were everywhere. Up to our left there were clouds of them all along the top of the dyke and along the path. With the slight headwind and the fair pace of 14mph we were knocking out, the flies splatted onto my shirt and shorts. They got in my eyes, ears and nostrils and occasionally I had one buzzing in my mouth. Don’t let this put you off the dyke – just make sure you have sunglasses and a snood! It could have just been the time of year…

Monument to the man who built the dyke by himself - I might have got that wrong.

The island in the middle is occupied by grassy areas that provide temporary relief from the fun and games of the dyke. It is free of flies and houses a tankstation – a Texaco with a coffee machine and snacks.

There are not so many efforts on Strava for the dyke. We saw occasional hardy road cyclists zoom by the in the opposite direction, head down and availing of the tailwind perhaps to post a fast time but they would be left with the issue of how to get back. The loaded touring bike was the main user it seemed – many 26-inch wheelers with butterfly bars and packed to the rafters.

Back on the bike and before you know it you are heading through Zurich! – this is a small village at the eastern end. We ate some well-earned stodge in Harlingen then continued onto Holwerd. There is a lengthy stint by a Sesdijk – a very pleasant ride and would have been fantastic had we not cycled by a very similar dam the day before. 

This was a pretty, shared path with sheep grazing either side. Vast fields extended eastwards while the 30-foot high dyke was on our left. In Dutch terms, this area is quite sparsely populated. There are just more farms and their polders and their unusual barns. Dutch farmhouses and their outbuildings, snug in road-side corners of their fields, all seem to have come from the same mould, with the barn having low, brick walls and a very tall, deep roof. 

The Wadden Zee is very shallow in these parts - so shallow that at certain times - and with a guide - it is possible to walk to Schiermonnikoog and Ameland, two of the Frisian Islands that run parallel to the coast and on into German waters.

Birdlife: My colleague, expert in many fields – wildlife, meteorology, extreme survival techniques – pointed at a medium-to-large-sized grey bird on one occasion as we sat enjoying another serving of appeltaart en slagroom. ‘Eagle!’ I shouted enthusiastically – ‘no, that’s a jackdaw.’ In my zest for all things wild I then observed the singular lack of pigeons (add also the lack of seagulls). There was no explanation for thedominance of the skies by jackdaws, though on the coast they were joined by terns. 

Holwerd is home to one of the many campsites about the country that offer Trekkershutten.  Holwerd  (€43 including 2 x 50c showers) itself is a quiet village with two hotels one of which takes orders for food until approx. 8pm – bit pricey, though, for standard fare.

Day Three: Holwerd to Meerland 65 miles

Prior to leaving the UK the weather forecast, up to the boat edging out of Harwich, had this, our third day, as just about written off as a thunderous, lightning-infested, deluge-filled washout. With these delightful prospects in mind, we dumped the 80+ mile coastal route in favour of a direct, canal-side route, using Google Maps, through Groningen that was an hour or two shorter so as to avoid the worst of the weather. The day was, until, 5.13pm, bathed in sunshine and so all went to plan as, by then, we were fully installed in our pre-booked deluxe trekkershutten and had battened down the hatches - and buttoned down the hutches.

Dokkum is a charming town with its fort and Zeldenrust, a 19^th century smock mill – and picturesque canal. 

The fort is a feature in many towns in the Netherlands and due to the lack of hills these are protected by a moat. For the most part, they are now residential or commercial areas but Dokkum still has a windmill. Bourtange, way over by the German border in the east is another worth seeing if you are that way.  
We found a hotel – by canal - that did a fabulous...apple pie and cream, which, the patron explained, was the favourite of bikers.

We headed on to the Van Starkenborghkanaal that would take us most of the way to Grooningen. Google Maps took us through someone's back garden - well, almost.

Canals seem like a good idea as they are often fast and direct and inherently flat. But after several miles, despite easy-on-the-eye avenues of trees, quaint boatage, windmills, lolling livestock and other miscellaneous chirping and squawking wildlife, you wish for a bend or a wee hillock. 

With this in mind we took the road into Groningen.

I live in a big town and like to get away from it all by not going to big towns. Groningen is such a place and while that did not appeal, a garish loud sprawling funfair made it even more of a turn-off. However, we did discover, Albert Heijn, a fancy-dan supermarket chain, and enjoyed yet more apple-pie and cream at a de-rigueur canal-side cafe. Just the two portions today.

The journey to Meerland was along the Winschoterdiep, a canal that extends to Germany. The canal is host to many shipyards in places such as the delightfully-named Foxholsterbosch. One of the shipyards, Ferus Smit, at Westerbroek, is well-known for the launch of its apparently over-sized ships. 

Youtube has plenty of footage of huge vessels rolling off the company’s facility into the narrow waterway and the resulting tidal wave. 
If Foxholsterbosch has unleashed a hitherto concealed delight for charming place names in the reader, visit Gasselterboerveebschemond perhaps which is not too far from Gasselternijveenschemond.

Despite the great weather we were mindful of the likelihood of heavy rain. N, my cycling buddy, is, as previously mentioned, a man knowledgeable in many disciplines such as wildlife, survival and cloud formations, explained how quickly storms – and their clouds – can build as hot air does this while the cold air does that. So, under blue skies, we made good time to another Albert Heijn outlet in Winshcoten to get food and necessaries before the three miles to the deluxe trekkerhutten - Luxe comforthut at the campsite in Meerland. 

Though the hut was tucked away among bushes and trees, it was very relaxing and comfortable and only a wee bit costlier at €47 than the very basic hut in Holwerd.  The deluxe hut has a shower, cooking facilities, tea and coffee, and a nice veranda with table and chairs. A very good-value breakfast can be ordered at €5 each. Contact Bas at campingmeerland@gmail.com.

There was an almighty storm with thunderous and electrical special effects at 17.13 that lasted a good three hours.

The Dutch and their bikes: The classic Dutch bicycle – an Omafiets - has high handlebars with grips curving back at a right angle. 

These allow the cyclist to ride with their arms folded and are also ideal if so inclined for reading a book, writing emails on a tablet and even taking a nap – seemingly. 

A recent modification to the classic bike is the electric motor, fuelled with the plentiful supply of renewable energy from wind-farms and the sluices of the big dykes.

Day 4 Meerland to Assen 31 miles

The first part of the day was the 30-mile or so ride to Assen to catch a train to Den Hagg. The rules for an assembled bicycle are quite simple – they must not be on a train between 16.00 and 18.30 – even if your journey started prior to 16.00 - and, along with your ticket,  you must purchase a Dagkaart fiets binnenland, a day pass for your bicycle, which are currently €6.20. These are available on the day from machines.

Warning: If you are approached by a balding, white male in his early sixties on a bicycle and wearing steel rimmed glasses who vehemently says you categorically cannot cycle to Assen using the most direct and obviously quieter route availing of the Pekelerhoofddiep canal and on to Gieten via some very nice, quiet roads - just nod your head and ignore him.

The train ride was not spectacular – they were no views to be had but for the Dutch Serengeti, that N spotted. He'd read about this area of marshland, right by the track near Amsterdam, that has been used to try and ‘re-wild’ animals – red deer, horses and cattle. Unfortunately, the recent winter reduced the population from 5200 to 1850 due to starvation and the project could face being scrapped due to public protest.

More of a symbol of justice than a eyeball pleaser, Den Haag mixes the ugly and new with a diminutive canal-side heritage and so it doesn’t really trouble the scorers on photogenic sights to see – unlike Delft, six miles south. 

This was home to Vermeer and still is home to idyllic mini-canals, an impressive Markt and City Hall and at least two photogenic churches, Oude Kerk (where Vermeer is buried) and Nieuwe Kerk. It also home of the Delftware – or Delftblue style of ceramics and pottery.

The journey back to the Hook was predictably dull, as this corner is built-up, primarily will huge glasshouses that grow your salad. The South Holland rush hour was in full swing/gridlock, which wasn’t a pretty sight.

The high street on the town of Hook of Holland, Prins Hendrik Straat, boasts a few bars, a bakery, cycle shop, a Lidl and another Alfred Heijn. The supermarkets shut at 8pm and so if you require any nicknacks for the ferry, bear that in mind. Boarding the ferry is a doddle compared to the Harwich version.

Cycling in The Netherlands: The Netherlands seemingly sets the standard for cycle-positive infrastructure and attitudes. What is all about? I have now cycled in the Netherlands for a grand total of eight days spread over three trips, including the above, and therefore I am not qualified to have a meaningful opinion. But I can still have a good old, knee-jerk-reaction style few words to say.

In an ideal world more of us would be on bikes – or in public transport - with private cars and taxis severely restricted. The 20,000 licensed, 5-metre cabs in London alone take up 100km of the Central London’s 3000km of roads!  In the UK, 4% of all journeys are undertaken on a bicycle, in the Netherlands, it’s 27%.

They have a huge network of cycle paths and cycle routes that cover the country and totalling 35000km. Virtually every road has a cycle lane or adjacent cycle path. They have cycle specific traffic lights; vehicles will stop for you to cross as they come off a roundabout. If there is an accident involving a car and a bike, the driver of the car is liable regardless who was at fault.

For the most part a lot of people get about on bikes – be it to work, the shops or for leisure.  We do the same but on a much smaller scale.

The reclamation of much of the land has been quite recent and therefore the building of dykes and roads has included provision for cycling. The fact that the country is flat is a huge advantage – at least for cycling. Firstly, more people are likely to cycle when it does not involve hillage – especially the more senior among us and certainly those who are not fit. Secondly, it is easier to build cycle paths where it is flat – paths are straight and easier to construct. The Netherlands are not big on hedges. This allows for the wider – and flat - verge to be used for the path.

Following the death of over 500 children in car accidents in the late 60s and early 70s and subsequent protests -Stop de Kindermoor - the Dutch government pursued a policy to reduce the trend towards increased car journeys – this policy also reflected the hike in fuel prices following OPEC cutting supplies during 1973/4.

The Dutch are not fussy about cycle paths alongside busy roads – even motorways. Cycle paths are there for people to get from A to B as much as anything else. With a bit of thought, we could use the land either side of dual carriageways and motorways. For some reason their cities and towns have more space. This is in spite of their density of population being more than the UK’s. They not only have cars but trams and cycles – each at times with its own designated routeway. UK cities are notoriously difficult to mine for extra space – France, Belgium and The Netherlands all manage it. Creating the CS routes in London has been accompanied by a big old song and dance. The new super highway seems to link the Westminster, the City and Docklands with commuter train stations – the result of some skilled lobbying by a minority somewhere in a position of power. The Dutch example seems more universal.

What is cycling in a big Dutch city like? Crazy! There is so much you must keep an eye on – especially the trams and their potentially lethal tramlines. And, if the cars, trucks, buses, motorcycles and trams don’t get you another cyclist might. Dutch bike handling skills are a quantum leap from ours. They fly at you, you gulp and your buttocks clench in anticipation of a crunch but, at the last moment, they do a ninety-degree turn without slowing down or flinching. If that doesn’t grab you, try the city cycle lanes at rush hour and they really move, compared to our sedate and cautious CS routes. They think they have nothing to fear – unlike us, what with the random motion of taxis and the like. They talk on phones, have their arms folded on the handle bars and are extremely cool about cycling. Stop at a junction though and you might need sandwiches and a newspaper – all the other types of traffic get their turn and it can take a while to get moving again.

I’m sure others have had a different experience and mine may seem off the mark.