First off apologies for the lack of contact. At first we thought it was our pronounciation of "cybercafe" but we soon learned that France has not embraced the wonders of the web yet.

We left Dover in high spirits, buoyed by a fry up and a couple of pints of ale in Wetherspoons. We were sad to see the green and pleasant land disappear over the horizon but we were looking forward to the adventure ahead. And what an adventure it turned out to be. After our fifth lap of the Calais gyratory system the map was confiscated off George and we were on our way. The plains of Pays de Calais provided a benchmark 30kmph average speed. Dave quickly put an end to that as he got dropped from the peloton and we settled into a more sensible stride.

As dusk arrived with still no place to stay we were kindly rescued by Patrick. It turns out he was a bit of an avid cycle tourist and he duly escorted us with flashing hazard lights to the nearest campsite. Merci Patrick !

We have made steady progress from then on, trying to average about 100km per day. This was slightley blighted by problems with George’s bottom (bracket). Unfortunately every bike shop in France has a lunch break from 11 to 3. Having said that, once we did find a shop they kindly mended it for free.

Like those that have gone before us we charged through the Ardennes at a ‘lightning’ pace. All very beautiful but also very wet. ‘Il pleurait comme les vache qui pisse’ as they say over here. Fortune shone on us again when we discovered a luxurious caravan next to a little bar. It was far from luxurious the next morning, but we were warm and dry. We left in a hurry because a snotty french woman had taken offence from our violation of the campsite facilities. ‘Vous etes betes ! Is this how you live in angleterre !’ Oops.

Onwards through the Verdun, slighley shocked by the rows and rows of wargraves that lined the route. It's hard to take in how horrific it must have been now it is green rolling hills.

Unfortunately there was no Patrick to rescue us one night as darkness grew near so we opted for an idyllic camping spot on a roundabout in an industrial estate (you owe me some money Tom !). Awaking the next morning we found our water bottles frozen solid and the thermometer reading –8. A stiff easterly wind was blowing in our faces as we laboured on at 10km/h. It is very soul destroying when the downhills feel like up.

Following another bitter night we made it to Strasbourg via a wonderfully flat 40km long canal towpath. Strasbourg is a very pleasant place and has a distinct Germanic feel, well worth a visit but probably not in January! Tonight we head into Germany as we make for Innsbruck. Apparently there are some little hills after that…