Estonia. Land of trees, bogs and sometimes trees and bogs.

Our adventure began at 5am on Monday the 22nd of April, when Iain and I had somehow managed to trick and cajole our respective parents into driving us to Gatwick Airport. I have a sneaking suspicion that both our fathers would have liked to have come on the trip, especially Iain’s dad Nigel, who took an interest in bike maintenance and our gear which bordered on obsession. Though, his help was invaluable none-the-less. I myself feel a deep debt of gratitude that I’m sure I was far to English to express towards my own parents for all their help towards beginning this trip, and Iain does to his.

We effectively scammed our overweight luggage onto the plane by carrying massive hand luggage and writing a weight on the bike boxes which was a good kilogram less than they actually were.

After a rather uneventful flight, where we ended up sitting next to a member of the tourist board who said to us that we’ll probably get bored if we stay in the town for more than two days (I am rather curious how she is still in a job), we were sat on the floor of Tallinn airport (the world’s cosiest airport should you be at all interested in the cosiness of international airports) assembling our bikes. I for one was about the most stressed I have ever been in my life during this process (thus far). It is probably a disappointment for you, dear reader, that absolutely nothing bad happened whatsoever; it all went perfectly to plan. Despite this we were still very stressed, we didn’t say anything but it showed; conversation and our demeanours were tense. As we rolled the loaded bikes out of the airport gates Iain declared ‘that if anything, it’s all gone rather too well’ I agreed something bad was going to have to happen to make up for this.

We walked into town following the major motorway, initially it resembled the outskirts of any modern conurbation anywhere in the world. Retail parks, petrol stations and concrete overpasses. Gradually though a sense of place began to emerge; ramshackle wooden buildings with a distinctly Eastern European feel to them, trams and peculiar Estonian shops proliferated. Whilst I rhapsodised about one such rustic wooden building, Iain remained doggedly unimpressed, declaring ‘it’s a shit-hole, and should have been painted about 14 years ago’.

We pressed on into the medieval heart of Tallinn and our hostel the Monk’s Bunk, which sat above a hookah bar and next to a sex shop. It was a great friendly little place ran by a motely crew of Aussies, Americans, Brazilians, Belgians, Britons and of course Estonians.  

I ended up eating a fittingly Baltic meal of herring, dill, sour cream and potatoes (Iain had a burger) in the rather unfitting surroundings of an Irish pub; ‘The Dubliner’, which was of the type of ubiquitous ‘pub’ establishment which proliferated further than the Irish diaspora ever managed to do. It was however delightfully cheap and satisfyingly generous with the portions and really as hungry large lads, what more can you ask for?

We took in the sights of Tallinn which is a small town on a walking tour lead by a beautiful (by and large all the women in Tallinn are beautiful and well dressed) blonde and rather bouncy (in the least euphemistic sense) tour guide. The subject matter of the tour seemed to largely revolve around the various subjugations of the Estonians over the years by foreign powers. Be they the Danes, Crusading [land grabbing] Teutonic Knights, German Merchants, Swedish and Russian Imperial Armies and lastly the terrible occupations by the Soviets the Nazis and the Soviets again. She seemed to glance over the rather charming architectures that these various invaders left behind (with the obvious exception of the Soviets and Nazis who managed to destroy swathes of the town through various exercises with high explosives and bombings). I remember mostly the fairy tale gothic spires and narrow cobbled streets brought to the town by the Hansa. Estonia though, despite having a history many thousands of years old, is a young country and they are understandably pleased with their current 21 years of independence. They do however hold their recently erected freedom monument with contempt, viewing it as an expensive and largely meaningless piece of nation building, which I feel is the requisite amount of self-loathing to be considered a self-confident nation. (Iain thought it was a fancy shaped rock that had been double glazed).

That night we saw to the proper business of being a Northern European and being in Tallinn; getting drunk. The hostel staff were relaxing with us in the common room as we were the only remaining guests along with our French roommate, Xavier. We ended up sinking several (very good value) strong ciders and beers before heading out to an open mic night in another more bustling hostel. The climax of this evening was a booming cockney accented man taking the stage and singing a raucous rendition of the Proclaimers’ ‘I would walk 500 miles’ and the entire bar joining in.

Needless to say we were very hungover the next day. This was meant to be our first day cycling. It was not a successful day. After languishing around until about 11am we finally packed our bags and hit the road at about 2pm. This was much to amusement of the hostel staff who were cajoling us to stay another night, but we demurred deciding that if we did not leave now we never would.  But as we rounded the corner heading for the edge of town I turned to Iain and said ‘are you scared’, he replied ‘yes’, I said ‘good, because I’m fucking terrified’.

Escaping from Tallinn proved to be a harrowing ride on pavements and cyclepaths next to thrumming and endless heavy traffic. Upon our eventual escape to the west we hit a lovely cyclepath and enjoyed glorious sunshine but had to endure brutal and relentless freezing headwinds, which made it feel like we were moving through treacle and the gusts were like being hit by a hammer. We reached the perfect campsite by 5pm and though we were barely 10 miles out of Tallinn we called it a day and pitched camp.

It was very cold camping, everyone had told us it was too cold to camp, we laughed and declared that mad dogs and Englishmen fear no discomfort. Turns out we didn’t enjoy it much despite the perfect locale and elected to press on to a town to stay in a hostel on the next day rather than camp.

So we did a solid 60 miles, again into the wind, but our limbs were not full of the ache of our hangovers and so it was not a too painful ride to Haapsalu, where we stayed in a very well kept hostel above a bowling alley, unfortunately as a plot device there was nothing amusing that resulted from being above a bowling alley. I could make up a funny bowling related anecdote but that would be a lie. The most striking feature of Haapsalu is its grandiose episcopal castle which looks like it has leapt straight out of a fairy tale, especially with a full golden harvest moon hanging over the marshes and bogs of Estonia’s flat lands. But for all its impressive battlements and towers I was most taken by its brilliant play-park.

We left Haapsalu in the late morning, aiming for the seaside town of Parnu, almost as soon as we mounted our bikes it began to rain. It rained, it rained and then it rained some more. It was cold rain, it was cruel rain, it was fucking bastard shite rain, we were soon soaked through and despite all our layers we were bitterly cold. We were riding through what can only be politely described as the arse end of fucking nowhere, there was no shelter, if we stopped pushing our heavy bikes even for a moment we would probably die of exposure. It was hard. It was miserable. Our only brief respite came in the form of a petrol station were we used the hand drier on our sorry chilled bones to try and gain some warmth and life back and we wolfed down without question a dubious petrol station Kebab. This was at the half way point. I remember little else of the next 35 miles other than the fact it was wet, cold and hard. There were no opt out points until we reached Parnu. If we camped we were so wet and so cold we would probably have died.

We finally reached Parnu as triumphant yet shivering wretches at about 7 O’Clock. We found a hostel and peeled off our soaking layers and enjoyed the central heating soft warm beds. Mostly though we were happy to be indoors, we would have paid to sit in a bare room, let alone a dorm. It did however become increasingly noticeable that this hostel had a distinct ‘One flew over the cuckoo’s’ nest vibe. With broad dark corridors and solid doors, a strange and almost bizarrely elderly clientele, a sad solitary chair sat in front of an old fashioned cathode ray tube TV playing operatic music in the common room and other than this noise a deathly silence hostel made the place feel a bit like a “special” kind of hostel.

Parnu itself is much like the other towns we have passed though in Estonia, a charming old town surrounded by grim and thoroughly dilapidated soviet block architecture. Outside of the centres the buildings look like they’re crumbling back into the sad past of the 1970s.

In the back country there are a few farm houses which all have gigantic and vociferously loud barking wolf dogs acting as sentinels (the barking of dogs is how I think I will remember the back country of Estonia), brutal and again grim soviet crumbling factory structures, and burnt out ruins, but mostly there are endless trees and even more endless bogs. (Iain and I cannot decide if there if there more bogs or more trees, and confuse matters, to quote Iain ‘to be fair sometimes there are bogs and there are trees’)

This is our last night in Estonia, so  what can I say of the country I have experienced? I could try reducing it to a series of nouns; cold, flat, forested, boggy, charming old towns and sad suburbs full of unfriendly people who are slow to even acknowledge the presence of another human being. The country of Estonia seems to sit in a direct contrast to Tallinn which is a thriving metropolis, full of young friendly faces, beautiful women and trendy bars. There is life in Tallinn, the rest of Estonia seems a little sad by comparison.

The Beginning of the Beginning

So we have a date for leaving. We fly out on the orange dream; the easyjet airbus express from Gatwick to Tallinn on the 22nd of April.

SHIT. GOT. REAL.

I have a rough route plan (I refuse to make an itinerary, it takes all the fun out of going places, I'd rather veiw this as one long psuedo-situationist derive across northern Europe), a list of all the youth hostels in the major towns along away, other than that, we have a tent, some maps and the hope that things wont all be going fooking pete tong.

We even have insurance. Like real adults.

Iain, is mostly worried about gear. This is fair enough, though I hope (and have good reason to suspect) that civilisation (and notably bike and camping shops) exists out in the Baltic countries and we will be able to sort out any severe gear problems there.

When will we be back? I can't say. I hope early to mid June. That is the plan. Hopefully we too much stuff won't go wrong, but if nothing goes wrong, then we won't really have travelled will we?




LOGISTICA

This bit is for anyone who is planning to do a similar if not the same trip...it'll probably be tedious if you're not... but I found blogs to be invaluable for research when planning this. So I hope this will be of help, don't hesitate to get in touch in years to come after we've done this if you want any tips...

Firstly, flying.

We picked easyjet because a) they're cheap as chips and b) they have a vaguely coherent and reasonably transparent bike policy.

Now their terms and conditions are a bit vague on the bike + hold baggage weight allowance matter. In their FAQs they say that after paying the fee for the transportation of bikes that 'the bicycles are exempt from additional excess baggage charges', meaning you should be allowed to have your 20kg of hold baggage, and up to a 32kg bike without paying for extra weight. However this is not stated at any other place on the website or on their sporting goods bicycle section, meaning that the effective weight limit is 32kg and going over would be met by extortionate excess baggage charges. 

So I contacted their customer service team for clarification... and the bikes do indeed seem to be exempt from excess baggage charges, which is good, if you like me are taking touring equipment as well as a bike with you when you fly.

'Dear Tom,

Thank you for taking the time to talk to us.

I would like to inform you that if you have one hold baggage and one bicycle (sports equipment) on the booking then the standard combined weight for the hold baggage and bicycle would be 40 kg. The combined weight combination can be explained with the following scenarios:
examples:
1. one hold bag 15kg + one bicycle 25 kg = "ALLOWED" (40kg standard allowance)
2. one hold bag 15kg + on bicycle 35 kg= "NOT ALLOWED"

No excess baggage applies :- SEC(bicycle) and hold baggage combined weigh 40 kg (more than 32 kg) but bicycles are exempt from any excess baggage charges relating to the weight of the bicycle (please note that a bicycle cannot weigh more than 32 kg).

Do contact me again for further clarifications.

Regards,

Jagjit
easyJet Customer Services'

Got my travel insurance from here, seems to be the business and is reccomended by the Cycle Touring Club, as it includes fairly comprehensive bike insurance, including bike replacement and even bike repatriation if everything goes awfully tits up.

Other than that, the maps were bought from the wonderful Stanfords of London, who have outfitted more adventures than I've had hot dinners, most notably Shackleton's famous expeditions. So they were more than adequate to get some maps of Northern and Eastern Europe... We're using Michelin 'Regional' maps to begin with, and might buy more maps on the way if these prove inadequate...watch this space...

Other than that, there have been many hours spent reading guide books, perusing Wikipedia, Wikitravel and Google Maps. Some more timid (and arguably ignorant) souls have urged me to check with the Foreign and Commonwealth Office website whether these countries are safe to travel in...this is patently ridiculous and there is no need to do this. If you are an EU citizen all the countries en route are perfectly simple to travel in.  

Profiles

So there are two of us going. We are both very much amateur enthusiasts. I feel we could do with something of an introduction.

Tom

I am Tom, I am the author of this blog and instigator of this mad biking endeavour. I've always been a keen cyclist and outdoorsman, having conquered many icy Munros, tramped up Icelandic Glaciers, explored wild Scottish islands and strode hundreds if not thousands of miles along the paths and hills of Britain over my 23 years.

I work as commercial script writer, have pretensions of being a proper writer someday and I aspire to spending my life going on proper adventures.

I've spent the past four years of my life studying to get a geography degree from the University of Edinburgh, I'm not too sure why I did this other than I felt in my bones somehow that geography was the subject of adventure. However my principle passions in life are great stories followed shortly by imagination and big dreams.

I'm 6 foot 9 and about 22 stone of solidly built man and muscle. This probably has something to do with my character, I'm larger than life and can be quite exuberant but I hope I'm pleasant enough company.

I am taking my one year old trek frame touring bike. It's built like a brick shit-house but with an aluminium frame it's pretty light considering this.

Iain

Iain is my companion on the trip. I've known him since he was a wee nipper, he is one of my best friends from school younger brother, and a damn good friend in his own right. His sport is normally sailing but he's a keen cyclist too.

He works as a carpenter, is as no nonsense as they come and has a craftsman's touch for making models and fixing all manner of things.

He has spent the past 4 years training to be (and working as) a carpenter, living at home, so I feel this adventure will be good for him to get out, see the world, see what he's made of and as he put 'do something a little bit crazy'.

Iain is a small man compared to me, but at 6 foot 5 and a lean mean carpentry machine (with the kind of muscles you only get working at building site all day every day...none of these showy gym muscles; this kid is just strong), he's certainly no smurf.

This will be his first time cycle touring and he has elected to do it on his Grandad's 65 year old custom built Rayleigh racing bike (his grandad was top flight cyclist in his youth). It's a wonderful machine but whether this will be a wise choice of bike, time will tell. Iain has chose to ignore all complaints over the wisdom of this choice and insists it will make him happy, he says he has grown up with this bike and idolised it through his childhood, it was to him always 'The Bike' so it will mean something to him if completes this trip on it (I myself have some reservations about the bike but I quite like the poetry of the thing so, I can sympathise).



We have decided to raise money for cancer research UK, as Iain's grandad (the same whose bike Iain will be riding) currently has cancer, so it seemed like a fitting a cause to support. Please donate to our just giving account if you would like to support us.

Plans, Schemes...

I wrote an overly poetic plan for our route. It's so hammy it could go in a brochure (my day job is as a copywriter...you'd never have guessed...), but it also serves as a rough outline of what the route entails.

From the vast legacy of the Soviet Union to the gothic architectures of the Hansa, from the sleepy countryside of Poland to the bustling old entrepôts of the Netherlands, from the vibrant cities of the Baltic coast to the teeming metropolises of western Europe, from the lakes and wild woods of Estonia to the neat agriculture and straight canals of Holland, this is a journey which in its two thousand mile route takes in the history, culture and landscapes that have shaped Northern Europe.

Touching down in Tallinn we will begin our journey relaxing amongst the beautiful gothic heap of the medieval old town and the bars and cafes of this most easterly outpost of the Hansa and capital of Estonia. After ensuring we’re properly outfitted with maps, supplies and the bikes are in top fighting condition, we’ll head out to the rural hinterland and wild woods of Estonia.

Tallinn: beautiful gothic heap.

We’ll race along the flat Baltic coast, camping where we can on the sandy beaches or amongst the vast woods. From there to the seaside town of Parnu we’ll coast down to Riga hugging the shore, stopping to enjoy the famous beaches should we get too hot.

Re-supplying and resting in Riga we’ll enjoy the sights, sounds and culture of the beautiful and vibrant capital city of Latvia, before we plunge inland to heartland of Lithuania and its fine capital of Vilnuis. This fine old city nestled amongst Lithuania’s southern uplands will make an interesting change from the flat plains of the coast. With its young population, large university and bustling cafes and bars this is a city brimming life and energy. Going from here to Drushkinai we’ll be moving through the heart of one of Europe’s biggest and wildest forests.

Crossing the border into Poland we’ll waft through the lazy countryside of the country's fertile northeast. Either camping in quiet forest locations by the region’s many lakes or on obliging farmland we’ll rest wherever is best and buy our supplies from the small market towns. Meandering down quiet country lanes we’ll skirt Poland’s border with the relic of the USSR that is Russian Kaliningrad and work our way back to the coast via Teutonic castles and haunting concentration camps and Nazi bunkers, before finally reaching the rich old port of Gdansk for some much deserved rest and relaxation for a few days.

Gdansk

After properly provisioning ourselves we’ll be back to flat lands of the Baltic coast and flying amongst the sand dunes and quiet towns of the coast of Pomerania. Camping on the beaches or on the farms we’ll try to make the most of the last of the relatively sparsely populated northern coast of Poland and its wild camping opportunities.

The beaches of Pomerania

From here we move into Germany and the stunning national parks of Mecklenburg, from campsite to campsite we will work our way up to Lubeck, the one time jewel in the crown of the Hansa. Recuperating in Lubeck we can see all the sights of this charming old town, which once upon a time was one of the world’s most influential and grandest cities. Here we leave the Baltic behind for good and go west for a day’s ride to Hamburg.

The great port city of Hamburg has always been Germany’s gateway to the world; this thriving metropolis is one of Europe’s great cities with its lively nightlife and busy urban culture. If we feel the need we shall stay here for two days, if we’re feeling fresh we shall press on into lower Saxony hugging the coast and flying on the spirit-level flat northern planes past the north sea.

As we leave Germany we enter the Netherlands and will head for the relaxed university city of Groningen. We can rest here for a few days before saddling up and heading round the north coast of Holland down to Amsterdam. After days of hard riding we’ll be wanting a well deserved rest in this beautiful city famous for its laidback attitude and world renowned architecture.

Heading south to Bruges we’ll finish up our journey by the canals, islands and windmills of the hook of Holland through to the picturesque market towns of northern Belgium. After the fairytale town of Bruges it’s but a day or two ride to Dunkirk and the end of the adventure by the famous beaches which loom so large in the British story of world war two. Hopefully* like the British army of 1940, from here we’ll be evacuated back to blighty and home comforts.

I hope there will be less death and destruction with our evacuation.

*(The ferries do not allow foot/bike passengers from Dunkirk, so failing another 'miracle' we can spend another day riding onto Calais where the ferries allow foot/bike passengers).

N.B. obviously having not left yet/not painted the famous picture of Dunkirk in World War 2 none of these pictures belong to me..I nabbed them from a google image search (their URLs should be in there somewhere...).

Going Places.

There was once a plan in my head . Well no, not so much a plan as a dream. It was a simple dream, it was a dream to go very far under my own power.

It was a dream to see the world, or well as much of the world as it would be possible to see. I wanted to go slowly and under my own power because I feel something is lost if you don't move through landscapes at human speeds. You lose a sense of place, a sense of perspective, a sense of where you actually are.

So it is to gain a real sense of where I am on this planet of ours that I wish to go very far under my own power.

Where I was going to go, I didn't know. Why I was going to go there, I didn't have a clue. All I knew is I wanted to go there, more than anything in the world.

The above sentiments are of course, guff. Nonsense, hot air and loose words. The marvellous mumblings of a monger of mooncalfery.

However, it is hot air and loose words that are the seeds of real deeds. No man of action ever began any action of any merit without a bit hot air and lot of dreams.Naturally though, to make these into actions we need the pithy business of detail and logistics. So let's have some below

So where am I to begin transforming my hot air into actions?

• With the cities of the Hanseatic League. 

Why the Hanseatic cities?

•  I have wanted to see them ever since I was informed of their existence to them by an excellent documentary (see below). Now, there are a lot of things on this earth I have always wanted to see, the stars from the Atacama, a heavy storm in the depths of the atlantic, the ever marching dunes of the Gobi, Timbuktu, the dazzling lights of New York (the list goes on, so I won't bore you with it's absurd length)... but the cities of the Hansa are relatively near to where I live and are as such cheap to get to. I am not yet a rich man so the world shall have to wait and this seems as good a place as any to begin.

• The Hanseatic cities are beautiful medieval cities that were the cradle of northern European gothicism and mercantile might, and are as such simply very nice places to look at.
• They lie in a logical sequence on an east west axis along the coast of Northern Europe between the UK and Russia, which facilitates a "journey" rather than a mere "trip" or if you will "holiday".
• They lie almost entirely within the EU, and as an EU citizen this is safe and easy territory for me to travel in and a great place to begin my adventures, which will in years to come become increasingly dangerous and exotic.  

How am I going to do this?

• I am going to fly to Tallinn, capital of Estonia and the furthest east of the Hanseatic cities with my bike, some camping gear and hopefully an equally well-equipped friend.
• We would, quite simply, just cycle back to the UK, a distance of some 2000ish miles. Seeing as much as we can, soaking in the landscapes, cultures and peoples on the way.

There are of course many other messy details about organising and logistics that need to be seen to...and they will be seen to in some subsequent less poetical posts that will explain for any interested in doing such a thing how they themselves might go about it.

But for now all I will offer are mad dreams, ideas and a desire to go places. A desire that is etched into the human soul, a desire to go over that hill, round the river bend and chase the distant horizon. This is no epic or dangerous journey that will ever compare to the tales of those brave navigators of bygone days, but it is some small way a good place to begin.