Tour de France

Thursday: Woke up, it was raining. Started doing some work. Gave up. Ate. Strolled down to the road and watched the Tour de France ride by. Walked around the park, walked back.

Work

I was planning on working today so I could take a day off later in the week. I got some done, but ended up reading blogs about cycling from Europe to Australia. This is how it started last time, and since finishing up in South America, apart from a brief period of being settled in the US, my feet have been itching.

Anyone want to go with me?

Grey

I was trimming my sorry excuse for a beard the other day, and I saw talcum powder in it. Hang on. I hadn’t used talc.

WHAT? Is that a grey hair? But, but… And there are more of them!! Wow, I didn’t realise things would go downhill this fast after hitting thirty.

Life in airports

I’m in New York Airport. For some reason the flight connection gods decided that I would spend 4 hours here. An inconvenient length of time – long enough to drive one batty, but too short to take advantage of. So I’m looking at my South America photos. Still working out how to go about beginning to sort them, 15 months after arriving in Ushuaia. Hopefully I get done before I return to Australia and need to show them off.

So I’m in New York because I’m on my way ‘home’ from St Croix. Yep, another trip to the Caribbean. Sounds glamourous? Well, in two weeks I managed to catch one sunset… Actually, this trip may well be my last to St Croix. It is a good break point in the project, I think someone else who lives closer will take over from here. It’s kind of a shame. I have grown to like the island, have started to make a few friends. So I made my farewells (again) and tore out the minor tendrils I had set – I’m not anywhere long enough to set roots. I am continually going somewhere new, but the flip side is I continually leaving. New is good, leaving is not always.

I haven’t been in St croix for a while. But the people I see regularly in the refinery know me as The Australian. It’s surprising how many people know me now – I seem to have made an impression (I hope it was good). Several conversations have gone along these lines:
“Hey, you’re back. How long this time?”
“Only two weeks”
“Where are you living now? Is it Houston or Spain?” (I had told anyone who would listen that I was moving to Spain previously).
“Spain: Barcelona, in theory”
“Wow, Barcelona, that’s awesome. Why the ‘in theory’?”
“I have a place there, but never seem to be there – this month I will make it for about 40 hours.”
“That’s crazy!”
“Yeah it is, but I can’t complain too much, the same day I get back to Barcelona I fly to Germany… For vacation. I’m going to go and meet some friends. We are going to cycle across the Alps to Italy.”
I then get a comment about how crazy I am, clarifying that I mean on a bike or how great that sounds. And the more I think about it, it does sound pretty good. So if I’ve made anyone jealous, I’m sorry, but I’m doing it anyway. Well, not too sorry.

So, anyway, I took last Sunday off to relax on the beach. I was persuaded to go to Rainbow Beach where there was a party. For some reason some of the other Engineers think I work too hard, and conspired to get me to take a day off. Well, it worked pretty well – I went for a wander to the lighthouse, then joined several hundred people on the beach, bands, music, warm water. Was good. The summer vacation colledge students in bikinis had nothing to do with it

Only other adventure of note: One night last week after work, I went out with Keith (one of the local Engineers I’ve been working closely with and get on pretty well), to go snorkelling in the dark. We borrowed flashlights (Yes, I’ve have had to convert, ‘torch’ just gets blank looks). We stayed out for two hours, but the time flew. We were hunting lobster. Up until sunset was over the hunting didn’t go so well – on par with the first time I tried (except for picking up a decent sized slipper lobster almost immediately, and releasing it after thinking it was too small) . I found several, backed into crevices in rocks but had no idea how to get them out. I was feeling considerably braver this time and tried grabbing their antanea to pull them out. They didn’t like his, resisted, and it took me a few times to realise that the antenna are not all that strong. Just after dark they all came out to feed which made spotting them much easier, but catching is still difficult. I finally nabbed one that we thought was big enough to keep, and after that I could hardly get near one. I found out once we got on the beach the cray I wsa tightly holding in my left glove was clicking and ’screaming’and must have been warning the others as I approached. So for 2 people, 2 hours of effort, we managed one crayfish. Which was too small to take a photo of (and 3 we caught and threw back because we thought them to be too small or too pregnant – we were after a jumbo!). At least now I know how it’s done – forget the snares, just grab it with a gloved hand – but take a bag to carry it back in.

I’m tired, a little sick (either a minor cold or swine flu), my right calf is busted from running (three weeks ago I last ran!), my left knee developed an agonising pain on Thursday, I tore open my thumb last night (probably should have got stitches, but I managed to stop the bleeding and I just fell asleep), I’m unfit, and generally feel like crap. But I’m going to be in Germany tomorrow morning, with two weeks of nothing but friends, fresh air, bike trails, snow, mountains, Austria, Italy, camping and pain in my thumb. Hopefully I can undo some of the damage I’ve done to myself by working the last few months. I can’t wait. I could do with some sleep though.

I finished this off in the plane. The American Arlines dinner as just come around. I’m trying the chicken. This may be the biggest risk I’ve taken in some time…

Here and gone

I’m back in Spain. You didn’t notice I’d gone? Well, I didn’t tell you. I was in Gelsenkirchen, Germany for a week. But now I have to go to the US on Sunday. So I stop here for 40 hours. Next fortnight I go one better. Meerly 8 hours in Spain before heading back to Germany (at least that trip is for fun).

Huh, and I said I was going to live in Spain. Didn’t I quit the last job because it was too unsettled, and take this one because it was going to be better?

Barca FC

It seems Barcelona F.C. are having a bit of a purple patch. After putting down long time rivals, Real Madrid last week, with a convincing 6-2 win, today they managed to beat Chelsea in the semi finals of the Champions League. Ok, so it was a 1-1 draw today, but there is something about away goals being worth more than home goals. Anyway, let’s just say that everyone in the bar was pretty happy when Barca scored.

“So what?” Everyone at home might say. And rightly so. It’s not like it is life or death over. No, it’s more important. But it allows me to say that ‘we’ are in the finals (and infuriate certain people – when I was in Munich, we beat Munich). Since I live by ‘Home is where you hang your hat’, surely I can also ’side with the winning team’. So long as that is also where my hat is.

Actually, my hat is in Canada (I think), but it’s not ice-hockey season yet.

GP

Huh. What do you know. The F1 GP is in Barcelona this weekend.

Wrok

Nightshift number… err. 6. It feels like more. It is Saturday night – so the computer tells me, I have no idea. It’s funny that I can change time zones by 12 hours and adjust within a few days, but I don’t seem to be able to keep it together for long when working all night.

At least I am able to walk or ride to work.

News

I was told that the last time I wrote under the heading “News”, I probably shouldn’t have, and was called a smart arse. So I wont do it again. You hear me? I wont.

I was talking to an operator at work today (in my, now very good, “international” English: ie, slow clear, and nothing complex – it’s amazing how much of a conversaion you can have with people who claim not to understand any English when you both try). He mentioned some friends had just cycled around the world. Amazing, does everyone in Germany go riding? Anyway, it dawned on me that it works better in different languages when most of the content of the blogs should be pictures. I like words. They are good for me, and with this computer and my internet connections they work ok. But no-one else wants to read them. I may have to add more pics. Just after I start taking some.

www.radreise-asien-2008.over-blog.net

or cheat and use google translate (my new best friend) -> the same blog in english

www.radventura.net

Burghausen

I can fall in love pretty much anywhere in Spring. This year I seem to have found Bavaria at the right time of year. It is beautiful here.
Regensburg is actually a very nice town. But it lived up to it’s name (Regen = Rain) when I visited, 2 of the 3 days it rained, so it was hard to really love it. But it didn’t matter, I had fun with my Bock. I could continue with a touching remark on the value of having good friends, but I might miss some of those in Oz, and I might appear to be sentimental. We wouldn’t want that.

So I had to go to ‘work’ in Burghausen (Castle House). It is also a very pretty place. Apparently the castle, which is quite imposingly placed on a ridge above the old town, is the longest in Europe (at around a kilometre long – but only 50m wide). I’ve managed to get enough time away from work to look around, and it seems to be idyllic here. Really. Everything seems to be so perfect that it’s almost… kind of scary.

There is an exceptionally well maintained castle, above a the Salzach river and the very pretty, and also well maintained old town. Behind the castle, where there is some flat land, is the new town of Burghausen. Which is also new, very well designed… and (surprise) well maintained. There are green community areas, with climbing equipment (with gym climbing holds), fountains, artwork, bike tracks. Old people are riding bikes where there isn’t any obvious reason for them to be there – goodness knows what they are doing, surely it’s not just for fitness?? Is it? I haven’t seen a fat person (although there are a few crazies around), but plenty thinner than I. There isn’t any graffiti. People say hulo (or grössgot or something) in the streets. There are bikes everywhere. They try to engage me in conversation when I buy something (umm, err, Ich spreche kein Deutsch? Smile, wave, feel stupid). No one wears headphones. People are well behaved. No one will cross the street until the light goes green. What kind of utopia have I stumbled upon?

Well, one that I don’t understand any of the language. Again. I keep running into that problem. Stupid Australian who speaks only English.

Of course it is spring, the trees are blooming, the birds are singing, the sun is shining. Ahhhh. Perhaps it is the season that makes me see only good things here. Perhaps it is absolutely horrible in winter, and dastardly dull. That must be it. Or perhaps you get sick of (or scared of) such a well organised community at some stage.

View Larger Map

For some lighter relief, I took a bike for a ride today, into Austria. A crappy hired city bike, through some farm land, dirt tracks, back roads and a forest, to a town I had pointed out to me on Google map. The town name is slightly amusing, and the signs at the town entrance allow one to snicker, although I found the town exit sign more amusing. No more of that allowed outside of here. A few weeks ago I was in Ibiza and missed out – I should’ve just come here.

But the ride was, as the few runs were in the last days, really nice. Everything is green, flowers are out, birds chirping. You wont be surprised to hear that, even the tiny back roads are asphalt and smooth. And on the horizon to the south, I was slightly surprised to see the Austrian Alps. They look bigger than I expected. I’ve been there before, but that was almost 20 years ago… and they are within easy riding distance if I had my gear and didn’t have to come back to work…

Perhaps I should hurry up and find some more adjectives to use to describe this place so I can move on. Everything is so nice it is sickening. I am not complaining, as a work location it certainly beats a few places I’ve been.

Mobile Technology

I haven’t had a phone in about 2 years. I got one on Thursday, and lost it on Sunday. It wasn’t deliberate, perhaps I’m just not meant to be in the technological world yet.

Bock!

Since I have known Stefan and Sabine (which I am reminded was Australia Day, 2008) they have been known as “The Bock”. Slang I learnt from ‘The Swiss’, aka ‘The Cowtails’.

We spent some time together in Patagonia and Brazil; more or less three months (I should count the days one day – to see how long Stefan really had to suffer). I had a great time (both in SAm and last weekend). Sabine tells me that my English on the blog needs some work, so maybe she can post a reply with corrections We can joke, but I know for a fact that they speak more Portugeuse, and Spanish (although I’m rapidly closing in) that I. Oh, and maybe a little more German (or “bock”).

So last weekend I knew I was to be in Munich, which is pretty close to where Stefan and Sabine pass the time as teachers between cycling holidays. Being teachers, they were of course on holidays, but luckily not on a cycling tour. So I invited myself over and had a great weekend. I hope they enjoyed it as well. It just so happened that Stefan and Sabine were hosting a get together for some of their friends on Saturday night – which was great, except Sabine had forewarned all her single girlfriends to stay away . Lucky for them! They have put together a slide show of their trip photos, which was great. I haven’t – I started to a few times, but it takes a lot of effort. Perhaps they have inspired me to try again. To retaliate, I made them watch the movie that Stu produced of our April 2007 hike in Tassie. That was only 2 years ago. Amazing. For everyone on the hike, a lot has happened since.

S&S took me (S) around their home city of Regensburg  – a very nice place, even in the rain. We talked about Patagonia for hours. They cooked up a great memory – Argentinean steak and Malbec. Mmmmm. We needed to use the diary to remember something and found the scores of the dice game we played with names in the columns of S, S, S. Went for a run together. We looked at photos. Cooked up some food, waited for the rain to stop.

Monday was sunny. On a sunny day, the city and region around Regensburg is exceptional. Really. They must be very careful with their hospitality – I might take a liking to the area. Stefan leant me a bike, one of nine – my kind of people . We went for a gentle circuit around through the rolling hills (green this time of year), the Danube, the small villages. Great, real Germany.

Stefan let slip that in six weeks they will be crossing the Alps (by bike of course). I have a hole in my calendar just then…

Yacht Racing

Before I even started working in Europe, my new boss had me lined up for a yacht race to Ibiza. I’m not sure what his motivation in inviting me was: simply being friendly, wanting to ‘bond’, or desperately needing crew. Since I was (and still am) a useless sailor, I hope it wasn’t the last.

But I’m up for almost anything, at least once – so of course I jumped at the offer. This is a pretty big race: The Ruta de la Sal (the salt road – something to do with salt being desperately needed in Barcelona in 1846). It was a while later I found out they were dead serious about winning the race (on handicap, of course). “They” morphed into a crew of six very experienced sailors. Experienced, as in: four of them (currently) own a racing boat, one lives on a boat, and the other basically grew up on a boat. And they were mostly Dutch, flying in specifically for the race.

Right. I was suddenly a little out of my depth.

But hey, I was here. I’m fit, able and pretty intelligent, I can help out somehow, surely! Well, it turns out I can’t. I tried, I learnt most of the ropes/sheets/guys and roughly what they were used for, but I was simply inexperienced. So during the race itself, my most useful function was to keep out of everyone’s way, and put my body in the most advantageous position to help the balance of the yacht. Ie, go sit over there, out of the way. In all fairness, everyone did all they could, when they could, to include me in the operation of the boat. But the winds were extremely light for most of the race, which meant it was important to make changes very quickly to get the most out of the winds.

The boat has all the technology, a tactical computer, weather station, GPS. Four different sources of weather forecast. Each weather forecast uses a different model, and is slightly different. The computer calculated two optimal routes (based on different weather models) and guess what? We followed the one that dumped us into a patch of calm weather. Several times. Which is fine, if everyone has the same conditions. Apparently a short distance to the west there was wind. The crew got somewhat frustrated at having to work very hard all night to keep the boat moving. I found it quite relaxing. Sitting on the side of a yacht goodness knows where in the Mediteranian Sea, working on my tan by day, dozing on deck at night.

So some of the other boats got wind and we didn’t. So we didn’t win, although from what I saw we would have done very well if we had taken the course with wind. Next year: more technology to find the wind while we are out there. I was amazed at times to see the boat move at an angle to, but into the wind, faster than the wind speed. These guys could really sail this yacht.

The only period of wind came right at the end of the race. We had been basically dead in the water, within sight of the finish line, watching Ibiza not get any bigger for about 4 hours. Suddenly the weather changed (as was predicted, but at a different time). The wind swung around to the SW (the direction we were heading) and rose from more or less zero to ‘force 5′; 20 knots or so. Suddenly we needed to get the waterproofs on and hang of the side of the boat to help it stay down.

We left at 0800 on Thursday. Arrived 35.5 hours later on Friday evening. Approx 150 nautical miles. Average speed: around 4.2 kn, or maddeningly slow. No one had a whole lot of sleep, maybe two or three hours each. Even I didn’t, although sitting is not hard, we were constantly tacking, jibing, changing things up to get maximum speed. I probably got more than most. But we were all really beat up when we got into Ibiza – still ahead of a significant portion of the fleet. So we decided to go out for a meal, and then to a night club and dance all night. I mean until 6 am when the club closed.

Well, you know how much of a party animal I am not. But occasionally dancing is fun, so I did. We all got on pretty well, the others in the crew got pretty drunk. But I was surprised at how dead Ibiza was. This was certainly not the party capital I was expecting! It turns out that April is off season. Really off, as we found out by the weather. The wind that blew us across the finish line brought a storm, and it was crappy weather all the rest of that day and the next. So there were no tourists, a few locals, and no party goers. I’ll have to go back and scope it out later in the year. Or not.

So Saturday we slept. Until some ungodly hour, like 11am, when we had to get up to eat. We then made a few minor repairs to the yacht, restocked the larder and got things ready for the return to Barcelona. Getting there is only half the fun! The award presentation was on Saturday night, we had a small amount of excitement when we realised a boat ahead of us maybe wasn’t playing by all the rules and we could raise a challenge, which was dashed when we found out the time for challenges had long gone. So, for now, we have settled for 2nd in class, and 8th overall. From 150 entries. Still a damn good effort. I can say this because I didn’t really help (and I hope that I didn’t slow the boat).

During the awards presentation/feeding session, comments were made about the storm kicking up in the Med. Some discussion about 35 knot winds and 2-3 m waves. Before we set out, the crew scared the pants off of me by suggesting that I really should take the ferry back to Barcelona. Why me? Why not everyone? Was I especially likely to get into trouble? Was someone calling me soft? Needless to say I would have taken the ferry had I been ordered to, but not because of a bit of wind. Or should I? Was that wind really as bad as they were telling me?

Well, it turns out we managed to miss both of the storms. One passed to our east, the other out west. It took only 24 hours to get back (remember 36 hrs to get there). And we did it, essentially in one long tack. I think we tacked maybe 3 times, and changed sails once (dropped the storm genoa) in the whole trip, and generally got thrown around the boat. The seas weren’t all that huge, but in a 35 foot yacht, 2 meter waves will make everyone wet. The wind only got to 25 knots (which is still fairly respectable in my book). I can only imagine I would have preferred to be in the ferry if it ever got to the predicted 35-40knots (which I now know is a gale – ie walking is difficult).

But we survived. The wet weather gear I borrowed was certainly past it’s prime – I spent 24 hours in dampness, so I escaped below deck after about 2am on the trip back, when we were resonably certain we’d missed the really bad weather.

Next time: Get good wet weather gear. Take a book for the long periods of calm weather boredom. Have some sort of function in the crew.

I took some photos if you are interested.

Easter

I don’t know that I’ve broadcast it yet, but tomorrow morning (in 6 hours actually) I’m to take part in my first yacht race. I think we have a chance of winning – the boat is sporting a race number of “001″. Because this crew won last year.

Do you think now is a good time to tell the crew I don’t know a sheet from a guy, starboard from the helm? Actually, that is a lie. I picked some terms I do know, because the ones I don’t… well, I don’t know them.

I’m learning that my greatest asset may be my bulk. I suspect I’m going to be primarily ‘rail meat’. The main function of this crew member is to sit on the side of the boat (the rail) that is trying to come out of the water and hold it down. With my incredible bulk I’m sure that will be easy. I think the trick comes in when you have to stay awake all night and half of the next day, and definitely not fall off the boat.

I’ll do my best.

Home

I’m back home. For an itinerant that doesn’t mean very much. Ok, I’m back in Barcelona. But not for long.

Dive

I managed to get out and go diving again over the weekend. It seems to be either that or get drunk. This weekend I may get to go diving from a boat. While the boat isn’t really necessary, you can swim out to most dive sites from the beach, it is convenient for storing all of the crayfish. We will see.

Since this blog is also my dive log (dlog?) , Keith and I went to North Star (after trying to dive on a wreck only to find a fin had lost a heel strap as we were about to get wet). We stayed down until the air ran out at 60ft (45mins or so). Second dive on the Wall for a good time, not a long time at average of 40ft (someones head hurt ~ 20mins). Came up with 500psi and 1000+psi. I had 12lbs of weight (see if I can remember that for next time), with a steamer and 80°F (26°C) water. And was still cold. So there.

Homeless

I’ve just noticed that my blog is getting more hits now than it was at the peak of my cycling. It cannot be that I am more interesting now… Perhaps one of the search engines has found me.

But last night for some reason I was thinking about homeless people. And I thought about it for a minute, and realised that if you twist the popular definition somewhat I could fit into that category. It has been 21 continuous months that I have been without a home. I wonder how many Chemical Engineers can say that! I might have clocked up 2 years, except I should have a home in Barcelona next month. I wont be there, but that is a different matter.

A year ago

It is already a year since I hit Ushuaia. That went quick. Just think… I could have ridden back to North America by now – instead I went and saw some of Canada, got a job, saw some of the US, and became a resident of Spain.

St Patrick

So , I’m back in St Croix. My time in Barcelona went quickly. It felt like a holiday – it was about that length.

Today is St Patricks day. I’m not wearing green – the festivities have already been completed. Saturday, all of the white people in St Croix got together for a parade near Fort Christianstead (one of the local jokes is this is a white peoples holiday, and more or less it is true). The police closed off the whole town (all two streets), and a handful of floats drove around a loop. I know at least a few of the floats did laps. Two weeks ago it was Carnival in Sitges. Being kind, you couldn’t make a comparison. But soon after the parade it became evident that the parade was a mere excuse to get most of the drinking population on island together for a royal piss-up. I must say they carried out the second part of the day with… enthusiasm. Parade at 11am. First ambulance I saw was at 1pm. Passed out in the gutter from 1:30 onwards. Somehow, some managed to party on into the night. Needless to say, it was pretty quiet Sunday morning.

I arrived

Hang about. Did I even write on my blog that I arrived in Spain? I’ve been here a week and a half, and didn’t bother to write. There must have been people all over the world pulling their hair out wondering what happened to me…

It’s ok. You can stop now. I’m safely in Spain. Just south of Barcelona, in the town of Sitges. I’m going to move to Barcelona after the immigration stuff is taken care of (which it more or less is already).

Nothing really exciting is happening, so no really exciting posts. I’ll come up with something soon.