TO AMSTERDAM WITH A BROKEN LEG...
This trip was to be a test for myself too see whether or not I
liked cycle touring.

SEPT 1998.

Just a few thoughts a couple of days before I set off on my two week journey to Amsterdam. How do I feel? Well very excited and to be honest, full of wonder as to whether or not I will be physically capable of actually completing the miles ahead of me. At a rough guess I think it will be about 230 odd miles riding, and having now ridden my bike for the first time with the panniers over the last few days, I have discovered it is very hard work, and they were empty!
Looking back, its nine years since I made my last journey, this was in Horris the Morris around the USA, in December of 89. Comparing then to now, I was at a stage in my life when I had properly embarked on the motorsport career path, there was no doubt in my mind that this is what I wanted too achieve, and subsequently have achieved. I am now self employed in the racing industry, I have reached my goal, but what has been the cost? The price I have paid has been in people, or the lack of contact with real people,  which is a way of describing them. This realisation has come from the other business that I run, which is a market stall selling painted glassware at Greenwich in London. There is such a diversity of people, stallholders and customers alike from many different countries and walks of life, it has opened my eyes to what lies outside of my own world. This has ignited the fuse in me which leads off onto the horizon, and has helped me realise how much I want to go touch, see, and taste these people and places. This was what has made me arrive at this point, two days before I set off on my bike, I know that if I do enjoy the next two weeks my future will be drastically changed, it will involve myself, my bike and the world, we shall see.......                                         

The start.

I rose at 3.30 am this morning which wasn't really the best thing to do when you want to conserve your energy! I had decided to catch the 6.00am ferry just to make sure that I had a full day on the road, this worked out rather well as I arrived in Calais at 8.00am local time. Riding down through the somewhat bland ferry terminal I was confronted at passport control by a group of mean looking soldiers, with what looked like cannons under their arms. I queued with the guilty looking car drivers expecting to be strip searched, or at least given a damn good frisk, but all of a sudden we were  waved through en masse, without any checks at all ! The journey now begins ! The first port of call was to be the tourist office up in the town, here while waiting for it to open I met a friendly old fat South African who gave me the low-down on getting cheap ferry crossings, (ask for a day return). I chose to purchase a map from the unfriendly person behind the desk, as I think this may help me find my way to Holland !
Heading North out of Calais on the D119 I passed through many an old village, on what is a very quiet road. A surprising amount of building work is being done, mostly in Gothic style, although thinking about it, I haven't actually seen any building work being carried out only the signs of half built buildings. I followed the road which now took me towards the town of Gravelines, here I again called into the tourist office, and was met by a beautiful dark hared French girl. She helpfully sorted me out with some photocopies of the route that I needed to take, and sent me on my way with a beating heart. Gravlines the town has a huge moated wall which surrounds it, and also  supposedly a fort, but this I didn't manage to see, what I did see though on the way out of town was a life-size bronze cow whose happy likeness I took.  

I now ventured onto the road to Dunkerque, there was thankfully only one small stretch of motorway and then the roads became fairly quiet again. Dunkerque town was itself a lot nicer than I expected, but I soon turned off the high street and found the road that runs along the shoreline. The promenade with its cycle path and the big wide beach were just fantastic, its no surprise that they chose to land here in the war. Cycling along the Prom was great, an actual cycle lane being in existence you had no problem with the strolling crowd at all, very unlike Southend. When I reached the end of the Prom and the road, I stopped and had some lunch, walked out to the sea and had a paddle, then went up into the dunes and took part in my first 'au' natural bicycling pee, then pumped up the rear tyre. As the road had now run out I had a choice of either heading inland or giving beach riding a go, the sand looked pretty hard in places, so I decided to attempt the beach. It was just excellent, I was just flying along with a good tailwind on my back which thankfully lasted the whole day. Stopping at the huge gun emplacements I took a photo of the bike and realised it had probably arrived there 50 years too late.

The beach was utterly fantastic just going on and on, after an hour or so I thought it best to ask someone where I was, as there is a severe lack of road signs here on the sand ! At about half a mile intervals there is always a group of lifeguards doing what lifeguards do, so I stopped and asked them in my appalling French if they spoke English. Strangely even my Bonjour seemed to go over their heads, but as soon as I spoke English it was no problem! I stopped and chatted with them for about ten minutes then headed off having been given my bearings. The beach finally came to an end at a place called Nieuwpoort. Getting off the beach did prove to be a problem as I had to go through deep powdered sand and uphill to get to the road. After a great deal of hard pushing I did make it to the top. Bicycles everywhere, just loads of them, then I noticed something else, all the cars had Belgium number plates! I was in Belgium !! On my first day I had managed to jump a border, I bet the local secret police are now trying to hunt me down! This also explained why the lifeguards couldn't understand my French, they obviously can't speak it themselves. About a mile outside of the town I found a campsite, put up my excellent tent and decided that I was very tired!
Yesterday I had a fantastic tailwind all the way up the coast, today's story was about a constant unending headwind throughout the day, and it nearly killed me. I had spoken to some fellow cyclists at the campsite and they had recommended that I should head inland on a cycle route as it was only motorway along the coast, this I did and headed off to Brugga. The road to Brugga was straight and flat with pleasant countryside all about, but as I mentioned before my whole attention was being taken up by the wind.   Brugga was a very beautiful town, everything seemed to have been restored to a very high standard, while riding across the town square I was nabbed by a policeman for riding where I shouldn't, as he was wearing a gun I pleaded mercy and he let me off.. I took a photo of the cycling statue and then rode over to the park for a nice hours sleep in the sunshine.

With a refreshed pace I cycled out of town alongside a lovely picturesque canal heading for the ferry to Breskins. This again took ages to find and I was also lucky enough to have my first puncture on the way. I just managed to catch the boat in time just as it was leaving, and I was most pleased to find that it only cost a pound. I had now arrived in the Zealand part of Holland and was delighted to find cycle paths everywhere even with their own cycle traffic lights. I soon found a campsite and fell to sleep at 6pm waking up at seven the following morning, its not hard work this cycling!
Yesterday had been rather taxing on the muscles, and I dreamt of tailwinds all the night long, although I didn't get my tailwind at least the air was still when I left the campsite. Surprisingly my legs felt great as I set off in a Northerly direction with a deal of speed. The really nice thing about Belgium and Holland is that you hardly ever have to travel on the main road, there are always cycle paths to take you where you want to go. When I arrived at the humungious great dykes that you have to cross to get to North Zealand, I missed the turning onto the path to take me up on to the top. The only alternative that I could see when I realised my mistake was up a long flight of concrete stairs which led up to the pathway. Thinking it wouldn't be a problem to push the bike to the top I decided to give it a go. Ten minutes later I staggered over the top, thankfully there was a seat and a bike rack helpfully placed for me to fall on to with my name written all over it, here I collapsed and devoured the bananas I had bought the previous day. When I had finished and was about to cycle off the owner of the other bicycle in the rack turned up, this was Simone a very nice and friendly girl who invited me back to have coffee with her husband Paul and their daughter. They lived in the local village and were truly nice people, they just loved my old bike and shared the same philosophy on life and travelling as myself. I spent a good two hours with them and then we went over to visit some of their friends who would be also interested in my bike. They also seemed to love it and gave my chain a good spray of oil before sending me on my way, We have all exchanged addresses so no doubt we shall all meet again. Once on my way again I made great speed, just whizzing along, over huge dykes and past lovely beach resorts and all surprisingly utterly empty. I ended up on one main road when I couldn't find the cycle path, and boy do the drivers get upset at this action. Though this is nothing compared too their annoyance when you cycle the wrong way down a slip road!
Once I had found the correct pathway again I found it was all sign posted to Rotterdam which was OK as this was roughly the direction in which I wanted to travel. I loyally followed the path, but then slowly began to realise that it took you on a very scenic route which most certainly was not very direct. Thankfully this I didn't mind as it did take you through all of the nice towns and small villages. Towards the end of the day it became search for a campsite time again, and I chose to head back to the coast to a place called Brille which is opposite the Hook of Holland. When I turned left off the main cycle path to cover the last 8 miles I was immediately hit by a most hideous headwind. This nearly did me in, my still performing well legs turned to jelly, and my body cried enough! I had to have one main stop on the way and several drinking ones as well just for good measure, but in the end my exhausted self found a fantastic campsite, a shop with beer, and a beach to write this on. I slept very well during the night and woke with extreme pleasure when I thought of the distance I had travelled so far, it is so surprising to me to realise how far you can go while just plodding along. I left the campsite at Brille at about 8am and followed the cycle route for about a mile and a half, I then came to a river! For this particular route you needed the boat to be running, it wasn't. Backtracking to the campsite I asked in the office for some alternative directions, they happily informed me that the route that I needed to take started at the beach that I had sat upon the previous evening, now once again I was on my way. I rode to the ferry at Rozenburg, getting lost a couple of times on the way, but thankfully arriving just as the boat pulled in. I now had it in my mind that I wanted to make to Amsterdam today, pushing on to Delft I ended up taking a wrong turning and started to cycle up the motorway. All of the car drivers soon let me know of my mistake, and the police then turned up, ordered me off the motorway and sent me on my way in the correct direction. I then set to and followed a canal for miles to a place called Oude-Wettering, here I was forced to stop as the outside of my left leg at the knee joint was hurting like madness itself. This I feel is because of the big miles that I covered yesterday (70 miles), though it had only started to hurt this morning. When I got up to leave after a rest I could hardly walk let alone cycle, I really thought that this was the end of the trip, so I had the lasonal out and rubbed that in and also took some paracetamol. At a very slow pace I set off again the joint seeming to go into a spasm on the outside of my knee, but after about half an hour thankfully the pain started to become bearable and I plodded on. Still following along the banks of the canal I came past the Amsterdam airport and to a turn off for the first campsite, although it was very tempting I decided to head straight to the centre of town and find the site which was there. Before reaching the downtown area I managed to get completely lost in a huge park while taking a shortcut, I seriously could have done without this considering the defective knee. Once I had found Amsterdam city itself my elation kept me going to find the camp. I found the ferry over to the North of the town which was happily free, and then stumbled into the campsite. I hope now that my knee will recover over the next few days, because at the moment I don't feel like I could cycle another yard.
It started to rain at about midnight, this woke me from my slumbers as it thundered on the tent, as I lay there I could only be thankful that it hadn't rained yesterday as this could have well finished me off. The side of my knee was still hurting in the morning but I thought it probably wasn't as bad as the day before. It carried on raining until about 1 'o'clock so I hid in the tent until then, anyhow my rain gear was still in the panniers which were attached to the bike, so whichever way I thought about it I would still end up getting wet. When the rain did finally stop I did a quick adjustment on the BSA's chain as this was now so loose it was jumping teeth and falling off! This done I headed off into Amsterdam, unfortunately even with an unloaded bike my knee still troubled me as soon as I started to peddle, though the longer that I rode the more it seemed to ease up. It did seem that it was mainly when I stopped and started that I got the main pain and spasm.
Once into town I dived in and out of the shops having a good nose around, chopping between the main roads which seem to spread out like a fan from the central station. I thought that the canal network would be a lot more prevalent than it actually was and it wasn't as well kept as the polished Brugga which lent it a good deal of character.

I stopped at the famous flower market and bought some Tulips, then had a good old mooch around for a few more hours. Back at the campground I bought the star buy of a ground mat, this should make sleeping slightly more comfortable, but its main bonus will be to keep the cold from the ground coming through. Today was a real rest and recuperation day, it was spent mostly in the tent keeping the weight off my knee, I'm hoping that this will be enough to fix the problem. The only other thing that I have managed to do is to make some repairs to the bike. The rear rack had broken so using a combination of tent pegs, tape, and some camping clips I managed to fix it well enough to hopefully get me home.
I rose bright and early this morning, and the knee felt fine to walk on, which was a relief, though the plan was to still take it nice and easy on the return journey. The first problem that I encountered was that the ferry that I had been using did not run on a Sunday, and also there was absolutely no one about to ask for directions. Thankfully after about half an hour I found an old boy out walking his dog, he gave me directions to another ferry which thankfully does run all of the time. On the way to this I met a Dutch girl who used to live in Winnipeg, and she led me the last half mile to the port.
I was now heading out of town and unfortunately my knee has started to twinge again, most probably due to the stress of all this I became completely lost and started to head west and not South as I should. I stopped and asked some stoned clubbers for directions, and the girl with the bum cut out of her plastic trousers pointed me the right way! Once more I was upon the canal path by the airport and here the side of my knee was just about crying enough. I had a strong headwind blowing in my face and even with my right leg doing all of the work my left was extremely painful. Every time I stopped at junctions or signs it made it a whole lot worse, but I knew that I had to just keep on plodding along and make the campsite at Rjjnsburg. I had hoped to have a steady six day ride back to Calais, but I realise now that this isn't to be. Whatever the tendon or muscle that I have torn I guess will need a couple of weeks and not a couple of days to heal.
Boy was I pleased to make camp tonight, I have now decided to head straight to the Hook of Holland and go home from there, because I realise now that there is no way that I will be able to make it back to Calais the way things are.
We had howling gales last night and loads more rain, when I rose in the morning thankfully the rain had abated but it was still very windy. In an inspired moment last night I bought a detailed local map which should guide me straight to the Hook without too many mishaps. As it turned out today was the biggest "Getting lost" day of the whole trip, which was the very thing that I wanted too avoid due to the pain in the neck, which was coming from my knee ! As soon as I set off I found a headwind blowing from the North, though this was OK to start with as I had to head to the North for a mile or so to get around the town and onto the coast track. Five or six miles later I found the correct road and turned South, aah... a tailwind bliss. At around the ten mile mark I found the cycle track through the dunes, this was really great even with one legged cycling. The total lack of people, the beautiful dune/moorland scenery and the wind on my back helped take my mind off my troublesome knee, and hopefully this path will take me all of the way down the rest of the coast. Wrong !

On my map it showed the cycle path crossing a main road, simple you would think, I found the main road but ended up heading god knows where. Asked some people, they sent me off, asked some more people, who also sent me off and ended up an hour later back at the end of the cycle path none the wiser ! I then tried a few more options, backtracking etc, to try and find the coast path again, but when I had passed the same point for the fourth time I gave up and headed for the main road for this part of the trip. For about an hour I was on the city roads but as luck would have it I ended up coming out by a restaurant situated at the point where the path started again. Now with my route discovered again I thought sod it and had a huge lunch in this fine eatery and it still only cost 14.50 Phennigs. When the meal had been fully consumed and digested I hit the path again, my knee seemed to come and go in fits and starts, one minute it would just hurt, then I would get a huge twinge which was agony, thankfully I did have this lovely tailwind which saved my bacon today. About five miles before the Hook I met an English family touring on bikes, I guessed that they were English from a distance because of the mountain bikes and the crash helmets. I rolled into the campsite having done just over 42 miles during the day, which due to getting lost was a lot more than I needed to have done, and now my poor old other knee is starting to ache! The weather forecast for the next few days is pretty bad so I think I will head home on the ferry tomorrow.                                                           

I had a good nights sleep in the tent again and now limped down to the port to get my ticket for the Seacat, this done I took a stroll around the town of Hoek van Holland, great cycle shops!    When I got home I visited an osteopath and a sports physiotherapist all to no avail and no improvement, in the end I gave up and went to the knee doctor who sent me for an X ray and a MIR scan. When I went to the hospital for the X ray I was a little excited as I had never had one before, I told the nurse all about the problem and how it had happened and showed her where it hurt on my knee. When sitting in the carpark afterwards I was just about to leave when I realised I had made a little boo boo. Being right handed my description and demonstration and then X ray had been on my right knee, or should I say the wrong knee! She didn't laugh, I did...
The result in the end was that where the tibia and fibia join at the knee they had broken apart, probably due to the stress of the heavy bike and kit and too many miles too soon.