On the 6th of April 2005, cousins Jamie Mackenzie and Ben Wylson set off on their bikes on a journey which will take them to over 50 countries and to every one of the worlds great continents, all without the use of an aeroplane.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005: Videos and Visas
The trees are in leaf, with light filtering through, shadows of the gently breeze- swayed foliage make grey patterns on the pavement below. Hooded crows peck around, the sun has not stopped shining; spring is with us in Berlin.
The cobbled streets are quiet until a rumbling car passes by. We discovered an enormous lake just minutes from our door, never realising that this would be our prize if we were to turn left instead of our usual right to Charlottenberg station.. The grass there is just right for lying back, listening to MP3 players and basking in the warmth of the occasion. Still, even in our open space on the shores of the lake, the air is tinged with the smell of Donner meat rotating on a spit. The Turkish meat houses are the only shops that never close. Our night out in the city to celebrate our arrival seems like it happened a long time ago, and now, like the sickly smell of the Kebab, there is an unavoidable, underlying mood of dissatisfaction.
We are having minor problems organising our Visas for Russia and Belarus. To be awarded a visa we need an invitation from a tourist company within Russia. These pricy invitations are sold on the internet. One company boasting a three-minute turn around has cost us three days. They have our money, but we do not have their service. It is frustrating and demoralising.
Sari works as an air hostess, flying all over Europe each day. We seem to spend most of our time in the internet cafe hoping for Visa news.
The road seems a long way away; between us stand the Russian and Belarus consulates. England seems far away too; we left three weeks ago today. We yearn for the countryside, to escape from the smoke, to sit beside a lake which instead of being overlooked by apartments, is observed by mountains.
Monday, April 25, 2005: The Russian Consulate
10% of all Berliners are Turkish -there are a lot of Kebabs to be eaten. For around 1.50 Euro you can pick up a really greasy one. A man we met in our local corner bar insisted -after we told him about the trip- on buying us one very large beer, a hot German sausage called a curry wurst, followed by another large beer to "coool the mouth", all the time laughing and telling us we were crazy.
Sari has a Turkish water pipe, we call it -as many do- a Hubbly bubbly. On a night we have been known to while away the evening passing around this peace pipe. The tobacco is either apple or fruits of the forest; both taste much of a muchness.
Away from the lazy leisure of Sari´s flat the night culture is moody and cosmopolitan. There is no point in going out before 10:00 because the place is dead. But when it wakes up, oh boy: there are cocktails and flame-throwers and cars that can fly.
There are hookers parading on every corner -apparently legally- accosting the innocent passer-by. A bar selling 100 beers and 40 whiskeys has intrigued us for a few hours. The nights are long and the days short.
Alarms were set for an early trip to the Russian consulate today. Upon our arrival we were crammed into a room where nobody spoke anything understandable. There was sweat, moustache, bustle and the low irritated drone of short-tempered guards, stressed with the questions of the incessant visa hunters. We queued for hours, grasping a ticket with a number which would -we were assured- be called out in Russian in due course. After some confusion, observed with a frustrated, irritated head shake from the native bystanders we managed to ask some questions. A little boy tripped over Jamie´s foot and fell on his face, splat! Screaming, he got to his feet, a graze on his nose and cheek. Jamie gave the look that means get out of here, and we were on the street again with no musk, only fresh air.
Over a strong coffee we discussed our visa acquisition tactics. They will be ours soon, then it will be a day's ride to Poland, but not before another visit to...the Russian Consulate..
Friday, April 22, 2005: Berlin - a well earned holiday
We are here at last! Yesterday lunch-time we rolled into Charlottenberg, a quiet leafy part of the city, close to the centre of Berlin where Ben´s friend Sari lives. Stopping by the Berlin sign we celebrated with a cheaper-than-water Liddles wheat beer. Feeling pleased as punch, we whipped out the video camera to record the moment.
Sari has a perfect pad; a welcoming little enclave for the hardened cyclist. You would never know that the city bright was so close.
By the time we got to Berlin, we were just about spent. Over the last six days we have done nothing but battle into a godforsaken headwind, which at times nearly stopped us in our tracks. The northeasterly seemed to take pleasure in freezing us to the bone. It was such strange weather. It felt like it should be warm but in fact was bitterly cold. Our tents have been dusted with frost in the mornings and even with nearly all our clothes on deep within our sleeping bags, we have felt the wind´s bitter nip.
Walking - since shelving the bikes for our stay in Berlin - has been difficult; it´s a bit like finding land legs after being at sea. Going up stairs burns the thighs; if you stretch out in the morning your whole lower body feels as though it´s on fire. The time to relax has come, to rest our pistons and compose ourselves for the push to Moscow.
On our way to the capital, we met some ever-so-friendly Germans. Camping is difficult because there are no wilds in Northern Europe. On our way East we took to asking locals if it would be all right for us to sleep on a patch of their grass. We were taken in every night -with but one exception- and given grass and sometimes a roof, hot coffee and food by: a friendly pig farmer, a family with a farm who specialise -in addition to the farming- in flat-packed housing (they had a very comfortable Wendy house), a demolition man and his family, an I.T consultant, his graphic designer wife and their two little girls, a couple with a converted windmill, a windsurfing instructor and her husband -a business man who sells exotic trees all over the world- their boys, a bunch of bronzed surfer dudes who played in a band and their daughter to whom we gave our autographs.
The exception was a place called ´Gutter´ a vile little village, full of unhelpful, rude people who -after we came close to begging- eventually gave us a patch of lumpy dirt right next to the softest of grass. The people of Gutter ought to be ashamed of their measliness and take a leaf out of the book of our friends formerly mentioned.
It was Sari´s birthday yesterday and,half dead,we sampled the Berlin night life. We went to a club which, very kindly, provided beds with pillows! We drank beer and felt happy. Everything had a dreamy haze around its edges. We wore smiles and looked on at all the gyrating German bodies in wonderment.
Saturday, April 16, 2005: 400 Miles and no hills
We left Antwerp with the knee well bandaged and in good spirits. The weather has not been perfect -quite a bit of rain- but thankfully before today we had not endured a headwind.
The countries have been flying by. We sped over the straight roads of Holland and before we knew it we were in Germany -where the roads so far are also straight. In fact, we have not had to climb one hill yet. Not one!! We are getting a bit apprehensive: what will happen to us if we do have to climb one? Will we make it to the top?! Mountains loom in the distance. I fear that one day our merry expedition will encounter a gradient of some sort.
We have been doing quite a bit of getting lost and are only just beginning to get the hang of picking our way through the German cycle routes.
Now we are in a small town just north of a mountain range south of Hanover. We should be leaving for a city called Bielefeld in a few minutes.
So much has happened over the last few days that it is going to be difficult to summerise. Our diaries are written every night without fail and one day all the details will be available for all to read.
In brief:
Jamie got attacked by a wild hound which broke from its owner's lead. It would´ve ripped out his throat had the owner not screamed some German command for NO. Jamie looked a little sheepish from the ditch he had dived into.
We´ve slept in a Wendyhouse.
Salami and cheese is our staple diet.
Washing is not easy, we smell bad.
Ben has a bite the size of golf ball on his forehead.
Monday, April 11, 2005: the verdict...
...and the verdict is - the knee lives to cycle another day. In fact we've been given the green light to depart as soon as we want. Ben went to the hospital early this morning with a sense of ominous foreboding as the knee didn't seem any better from the previous day. With his trousers down, the doc looked him over, had a feel and announced that it was an inflamed tendon and as long as we took it easy it'd be as right as rain in several days. So team FWE will be back in the saddle at day- break tomorrow, striking a course north/east to the Dutch border. We'll keep a steady heading for several days and arrive at the German crossing some time towards the end of the week. Freedom once again, the wheels roll on.
Sunday, April 10, 2005: teething problems
The team are still in Antwerp! Ben's knee problem is worse than we at first thought. He'll see a doc tomorrow and fingers crossed the news will be kind. Keep an eye here...Will Ben's knee get better...Will the team be back in the saddle soon...Or will it be a lengthy lay off? We must all wait and see!
Friday, April 08, 2005: and so it begins
The FWE team are making great progress and after two, fifty-mile days are taking it easy and enjoying the city of Antwerp, Belgium.
Saying good-bye was the hardest thing we've ever done and I never wish to go through it again. It all seemed so rushed and unplanned but that probably worked for the best, I suppose. There were loads of things I wanted to say to everyone but somehow they never even came close to coming out. I have an image burnt into my mind of us waving to the family from the top of the departures ramp at Dover. I'll never forget that.
We made the ferry fine and had a few glassy-eyed pints to drown sorrows. We took a long time to find our way through Dunkirk and then on north to the Belg boarder where we had to battle hard against some stiff headwinds. The legs were burning and the cheeks were red when we arrived in Oostend where we booked straight into a hostel for the night.
The following day's ride was much easier as we picked a route heading north east towards Brugge. We did some great filming then carried on. The bolognaise sauce then exlpoded in my rear pannier, covering everything with basil-flavoured muck. I wasn't amused and declined Ben's offer to film me cleaning it up.
We entered the Netherlands having taken a wrong turn near to the border and after cycling down a motorway with cars flashing and people holding fingers up and swearing, we were soon in the countryside and again cruising at 18 mph. We saw a farm house and headed up the drive to see if we could poach a plot of land to sleep on. We were allotted a perfect spot, sheltered by a barn on soft grass. As we were preparing the tents the wife approached and asked if we'd like to go in and have noodle and meatball soup with bread and a hot tea. We accepted and dutifully scoffed the lot. Many gratitudes to them. All that night it rained hard, really hard, and by the morning moisture was seeping into the inner sanctum of slumber. We packed the bikes in the rain, had a small bite to eat then started the day's pedalling. Ben's knee is sore today and we've taken it easy for the most part, but are still pleased to have completed 30 miles before lunch.
We might stay here for the night and give the knee some recuperation time. A shower would be welcome, having not washed for a quite a few days now.
So people, team FWE roll on and averaging a country a day. The roads are flatter than you could ever imagine and are straight for mile after endless mile. All in all it isn't the most exhilarating riding in the world but is probably just the sort of introduction we needed to life on the road. Ben keeps us moving with our high octane Creatin drinks and the dried bananas are doing wonders for our internal systems. Ben especially has experineced some really dire gut-related situations and we're still thousands of miles from the Orient.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005: Television, cameras, HP, manic packing and goodbyes
The last few days have been laced with a concoction of stress, fatigue and high emotion, pulsing with an adrenalin-packed, sickening, nervous excitement which will, we hope, have abated by the time we sit on the cross-channel ferry from Dover to Dunkirk in no less than eight and a quarter hours' time. Yes, we will be on the road tomorrow to begin the ride that follows the sunrise.
Television
BBC South East Today visited Brook Farm this afternoon, interviewing Ben, Jamie and Maggie (Ben's Mum [fondly known as Midge]). The filming included gripping action shots of the pair hurtling by the cameras at break-neck speeds.
To see this footage, tune into the News any time throughout the day. Attention: Ben and Jamie are more likely to appear in the morning, as something more newsworthy could well happen during the day.
Cameras
FWE's filming commenced today. Brother Jack (aka 'Slug', 'Jazz' or 'V') filmed the interview with the T.V crew on our very own broadcast-quality Sony D.V cam. The Camera will be transported around the world for Jamie and Ben to capture some of the greatest moments of Free Wheels East's journey. Then it's up to Dontwalk Media to make it look good!
HP iPac donated
Hewlitt Packard have made the generous donation of an iPac, an all-in-one personal computer/phone that fits snugly into the palm of your hand. We will be picking up our emails on the iPac and letting you know all the latest through www.freewheelseast.co.uk.
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