Day 22 - Kaliningrad to Frombork

As expected the Portovaya Ulitsa leading out of town was grim, and headed onto the busy Suvorova.

Once out of the city limits things began to calm down a bit, and the traffic didn't really have anywhere to go. They are attempting to make improvements to the roads, but Russia really isn't geared up for cyclists. It just isn't in the culture.

The woman in the shop U Mosta at Mamonovo said plenty of Germans come through so hopefully that demand will create better riding conditions eventually.

One biking bonus was the ability to jump the queue at customs, probably so they could laugh at this mad venture. No surprise when they asked if I was going to Germany. I also.got the customary dressing down from one border guard who seemed unhappy the other had told me to skip the queue.

Frombork is a beautiful village dominated by the huge cathedral. Nikolai Kopernik lived and died here, and there are a lot of monuments dedicated to him as well as an observatory.

The preceding town Braniewo is also well worth checking out. It has been absolutely roasting today, really taking it out of me physically. Tempted by an early start.

Day 21 - rest day in Kaliningrad

Kaliningrad is a city with some really nice parts that then spread to the worst of Soviet architecture. The central square, Pobedy, is very pretty backing onto a church, and the pond in the north near my hotel was pleasant.

What is frustrating is the potential Russia throws away. The two Germans I met on the spit said one British guy was cycling all the day round, rather than getting a visa. Two hostel had also opened, one in the best area near the cathedral, but had evidently closed.

Visas are the biggest issue for most travelers, particularly those on a budget. Rich people will probably not go to Kaliningrad anyway.

Just opening the border would create a host of business opportunities, but at the moment they are failing.

The cathedral where Kant is buried is certainly worth checking out, as is the quaint, adjacent fishing village. The fort which now houses the museum of oceanography is interesting, but in the port, which has been overtaken by heavy industry.

I'm not particularly looking forward to getting back out on the Russian roads again, as the way out of town seems pretty busy.

Day 20 - Nida to Kaliningrad

The old saying that Russia has two problems couldn't be less right. The country actually needs to invent a new word to describe just how bad the roads are. Answers on a postcard, though many will probably begin with x, I suspect.

As soon as completing the formalities of crossing the border, including a cheeky attempt to glide past passport control, the road quality deteriorated. Seeing as they only built one road they could at least do something about the potholes.

Still it was better than the road out of Pete until the end of the spit. Due to the mosquito infestation - though there were less, possibly due to the laborious visa process - I decided to power straight through. The forestry and birdsong is fantastic and there are plenty of opportunities to climb dunes, though the infrastructure is way better in Lithuania.

In the end I had a 5 min break to chat to two Germans going in the opposite direction and got eaten alive.

Zelenogradsk is, to be polite, a dump. The road is falling apart and there is all kinds of chaos in cars to get into the national park.

After a sly pan au chocolat it was back in the saddle. To avoid the main road to the city I'd figured out a route down a seemingly pointless road. The problem was finding it as copilot had no maps for Kaliningrad. In the end my Google maps achieved a blurred connection and some roadworks ensured the road was quiet.

The route gets quite busy in the centre and also takes a chunk out of the calculator's distance by bypassing the holiday resort of Svetlogorsk. Seeing as Russia does not like cyclists I am quite happy to do as little cycling as possible here and get back on the eurovelo in Poland.

Day 19 - Klaipeda to Nida

The original plan was to cycle the 100km spit in one go and rock up in Zelenogradsk on the Kaliningrad coast. I was under the misapprehension that there wasn't much there.

After shaking off a wee bit of a lie in following the beers I took the ferry over to the spit. On the way to the pier there is a cool revolving bridge with a ghostly statue climbing out of it.

The Curonian Spit is actually huge. Something I'd have noticed if I'd done some research or just looked at the significant bit of land on the map. After cycling along a cycle path I realised there were a few crossing ones and that I was just going across the dunes rather than along. This afforded some great views and some fun climbing, but wasn't getting me anywhere near the 110km that had to be done.

Eventually I joined the main road, which went fairly direct towards the Russian border. After a quick stop and snack in a small coastal village I set off again. While the spit is absolutely beautiful the mosquitoes are a massive problem. Going under the trees along the coast they are everywhere, meaning you have to brush yourself down reentering the sun. It is best to simply keep moving as they can't land, but do stick if you hit them.

After 50km Nida is the last town before the border. On a little stage near on some grass some bands were playing. One, fronted by two young ladies, were actually very good. My Lithuanian isn't really up to scratch, but they were folk with a few jazz piano loops thrown in. It did leave me thinking about Bill Bailey playing the Pink Panther.

In the evening there was a larger celebration for the opening of the summer season. It was on tv and hosted by two very eurovision presenters, which was mirrored in the acts. Poor pop groups and ageing stars topped the bill. For a while it was good fun, but the mozzies were descending with the sun and the level of sobriety had already set. With a group of people this would be great fun and an escape from the usual Baltic later lad trips.

Day 18 - Palanga to Klaipeda

This was scheduled as a bit of a rest day, but Palanga was so nice I decided to stay there meaning a 25km cruise down the coast was on the cards.

The route takes one of the best kept cycle paths so far through the woods and plenty of people were going in the opposite direction. The path suddenly turns into a rather crowded pavement in the city, but I wasn't planning to push hard anyway.

Klaipeda is a bit of a nothing town except the gateway to the Curonian Spit. There is a tiny cobbled old town with one square sms a bunch of Chinese restaurants. The park on the way to the hostel is also quite scenic supposedly containing 120 sculptures.

In the evening I had a beer and a game of table football with a lad from the hostel called Darren. They seem to love the game in the Baltics, and we were the only ones in the small rock bar, which seemed strange for a Friday. A bit of a sleepy town, really.

Day 17 - Liepaja to Palanga

The girl at the hotel had recommended cycling 50 odd km down the beach to the Lithuanian border. I was quite tempted as the road out of town looked quite busy.

I followed her instructions down through the Jurmalas park cycle path. Rather than leading to the beach it suddenly turned onto the main road. As there were no vehicles in sight in either direction it seemed safe enough.

As it is a coastal road it is quite flat and made for good cycling. There were some beautiful views out to see, but most of the time it drifted inland.

Near the border I pulled into Rucava to spend my remaining Lats and ended up buying a giant bar of milka as there was nothing else to get.

A strange old guy then started checking out my bike. Instead of some peace to eat lunch he insisted I went to his museum of music. While the museum is nothing special, the guy can play almost any instrument. He played songs on the accordion, the saw and a crazy nose instrument. Well worth a visit, though he doesn't speak English.

More fast paced cycling through the wooded border area took me to Lithuania and the tiny Palanga airport, which housed one bus as I rode past.

It would also seem Lithuania and Latvia are about to enter a dispute with the country's airbus right on the border.

Palanga is a local holiday resort. The picturesque main boulevard is all cafes leading down to the pier, which is full of people fishing, and the rest of town is cheap hotels.

The highlight is the botanical garden. A myriad of paths lead to ponds, flora and fauna and a chapel on the hill in the centre.

The Baltics are full of people aged 15-21 and I put this down to the optimism following the revolutions. Wherever you go there are young people out doing things, which is nice to see.

Day 16 - Pavilosta to Liepaja

While this was only a 45 km jaunt down the main road the eurovelo recommended some kind of crazy path through the woods.

I set off over the river and into the woods on a gravel track, but it sooner turned to mud. At one point a bank of sand halted the wheels and it was slow going. The mud had dried in the sun but there were still puddles in the shade and my back wheel slipped through the loose sand that hadn't been flattened by a recent tractor.

Eventually it gave way to another gravel path that made things easier going, while the trees blocked the wind. According to Mytracks the pace had dropped around 25 per cent and that was hard going.

The mud track was probably the wrong route, but it took me off the main road earlier.

Liepaja is a nice town and is geared up for tourists in the summer. The Jurmalas park offers games, while the beach stretches for miles. Sad to say I had a cheek round of minigolf alone - including a hole in one, honestly - where I bumped into the Germans.

Marvin and Thore had not reaches Liepaja last night and ended up camping in the downpour. It still gets cold at night, and rather impressively they had managed to build a fire. Less so, Thore had burnt his trainers trying to dry them and they were held together with tape.

In the evening we had a couple of beers in a famous rock bar, where a live band was playing.

Day 15 - Kuldiga to Pavilosta.

This was a day of two halves. The first bit to the coast at Jurvalne was nice, though the cross wind did manage to blow me off the road a couple of times.

At the coast I met two German kids cycling the same way, so we chilled out and had some lunch. They had started the previous evening in Ventspils, about 45km to the north.

Watching them lurch off let me know just what was in store. A vicious 24mph wind was blowing up the coast, which is apparently pretty common for the region.

The guys, Marvin and Thore, made me glad of my equipment, using rubbish mountain bikes and heavy backpack.

I overtook them pretty quickly and turned off 45km from Leipaja, where they were heading.

Pavilosta is a tiny place with one cafe, a couple of places to stay and a huge beach that fills with locals in the summer. Now it was quiet and the brisk wind brought in an evening storm.

Day 14 - Tukums to Kuldiga

The 90km push through the wind was bad, but felt better than the one to Cesis. Hopefully that means my legs are getting stronger.

Kuldiga is an interesting, medieval town. The problem is that it was allowed to fall into disrepair, and this is an obvious shame. They noticed about five or six years ago and clearly working hard to change it into the tourist draw it should be.

The restoration job on the fantastic cobbled bridge is well worth seeing. From there works have been slower. The high street looks nice, but away from that things truly show their history.

It reminds me of Vyborg a little, and the potential of that city. Luckily Latvia has noticed and is working to fix the historic buildings.

The hotel in the sports centre here was cheap and had a bed. Nothing else good can be said about it.

Day 13 - Riga to Tukums

This was by far the most enjoyable day of cycling I've had so far. Half the city was running the local marathon and half marathon and the rest were out on their bikes.

From the centre there is a bike path along the railway the 25km to the lovely coastal suburb Jurmala. So many people were out enjoying the ride and it felt good to see that cycling culture. It is everywhere in Latvia with people using little delivery boy bikes to do their shopping. Every small town also has a bike path, even if it is only five houses.

From Jurmala the path becomes brickwork, which is a little uncomfortable. But the road is quiet so it is easy enough to cruise along that. From Jurmala it leads north-west along the coast.

Despite nursing the ill effects of Riga's party culture I was making good time through the woods. For once there was no wind too.

The road then turns off to an 18km cycle to Tukums. It is a small town with literally nothing happening. All the cafes were closed after 6 on a Sunday. The only thing open was a small sport centre that fortunately houses a decent hotel.

A walk round the area in search of food led to the deli counter at the supermarket, followed by watching some ice hockey training at the hotel.

Day 12 - rest day

Recovering from a wee hangover the day was spent wandering round the old town.

The area can be covered in a few hours, including the museum of occupation. I'd been to it before, but it is quite interesting. Every time I'd mentioned the Baltics Russians have said how much they did for them such as free them from Hitler and build factories. This museum shows what many locals think.

The park with a little tributary running through it is probably my favourite part of the city. There are monuments and little hills to explore, but most importantly is the relaxed atmosphere of chilling on the grass in summer.

Definitely a town worth visiting rather than reading about.

Day 11 - Sigulda to Riga

This was one of the best rides for a while. The wind was off my back, or off my front more literally. The r1 calculator makes it a 90km trip in from the north, but I figured a route on p roads, which tend to be quieter.

It started off fine, but required a cut through the woods to avoid joining a motorway. It would be a long way back if copilot was wrong.

Luckily it paid off along a dodgy sand and mud trail. It was slow going, but well worth the risk of wasting time rather than the risk of busy roads.

The Baltics have lots of these sandy paths, which always lead to mines for this sand. All they seem to do with it is build more paths to sand mines. It seems a little pointless.

Eventually it led to a tiny village with a massive school, which appeared equally unused.

From there it was relatively easy descending into Riga. The p4 is not too busy, though the speed of some of the trucks can be unnerving. A guy going in the opposite direction had a baby going to his top bar so it can't have been too crazy, even if he was insane.

Riga is one of the best cities in the world. Once you hit the edge of town a cycle path runs towards the old town.

This historic centre is gorgeous and can be explored in a couple of hours.

After checking into the very recommendable Cinnamon Sally hostel I met some Italians for a walk and dinner, then a group of aussies for drinks.

Day 10 - Cesis to Sigulda

A short day of 40km to Sigulda set me up nicely for riding into Riga.

The ride was through the luscious Gauja national park. A strange off-road detour through Ligatne was well worth it for the tree lined ride dropping into a valley with a riverside village.

Sigulda is another great little town, and there are a few decent things to see. The Novada Dome is nice and there are two castles, built by a noble and his rival a bishop. These are up some pretty steep climbs over the Gauja river, and I wish I'd had more time to explore.

In the evening I got chatting to a Swedish guy and a local and they invited me back for bbq and a banya. The guy has a guesthouse, which I highly recommend. The info place had already booked somewhere else for me, though. And they said not to cycle to Riga but get the train...

Day 9 Valga to Cesis

As soon as I got into Latvia - the border is a tiny sign in the middle of the town - the wind picked up. A stiff west breeze would face me head on for the 90km to Cesis.

This was a big day after the two short stints in the rain. The weather had picked up and the sun was out again.

The route along estonian path 3 and than lv2 in Latvia starts getting hilly. There were no really tough hills, just plenty of ups and downs, which makes momentum tough to build.

Smiltene is quite a nice town with a fun cobbled descent into it that, with heavy panniers, requires some serious braking.

There were some long, soul destroying roads that stretched endlessly into the distance. Open meadows look nowhere near as appealing as a forest when it is windy.

When I made it to Rauna was when the finish started edging closer in my mind. The pond in this village about 20km from Cesis is great, and plenty of people were out fishing. There is also a castle and I'm pretty sure I found it. Even more ruined that I expected.

Cesis rivals Tartu for the nicest town so far. It has a small square with a multi-coloured fountain and a sweet park with a black swan. The region also has plenty of stalks.

There is nothing like the rewarding feeling of completing a tough day so I even had a beer with dinner.

Day 8 - Otepää to Valga

Another unpleasant day kicked off with a light drizzle and only a short 50km ride to the border at Valga.

My shoes were still soaked from the previous day's downpour and the gloves were left in the bag as they were too soaked to be of any use.

On days like this the only thing to do is get on with it. The scenery was probably quite nice but I'd barely taken a photo due to the weather. Estonia consists of lots of little villages built on the banks of lakes. They are very quaint but there is little to stop for.

After about 30km there was one with a shop and some little covered picnic tables outside.

Valga is a fairly ordinary looking town. All the villages are much more picturesque but it had a hostel. It also had a Korean restaurant with fantastic spicy soup "for men".

Day 7 - Tartu to Otepää

That was the most ridiculously grim day of cycling ever. It rained solidly for 4 hours till I arrived in Otepää, a town which mostly functions as a ski resort. It's quite nice, but all I wanted to do was get somewhere dry.

A hostel and a hotel didn't even bother opening today, and it looked like I might have to push on through the drizzle. It started off around a 96 - the type that you have to shield your face against - and moved to a 108 - that type which soak you through.

There is meant to be an interesting hill fort here so I might check that out tomorrow. I only stopped for a lion bar and no photos. It was just too cold. It is brightening now, but more rain is forecast tomorrow.

Day 6 - rest day

Sorry that all these blogs are coming at once. This is the first time I've had access to an actual computer, but the notes from each day are going into a book.

I'm well ahead of schedule and really happy with my progress. Even cycling down into the old town without my panniers was good to loosen the legs, which had been getting quite tight. Tartu is a really beautiful place, with a fantastic university at the heart of the historic centre. From there it spreads out into modern shopping centres and the ubiquitous modern town.

Everybody in Estonia cycles so it is brilliant just cruising about the streets without feeling like you are battling cars. I've heard it gets worse again, particularly in Poland.

Last night a Swedish couple and the three Estonians who run the Looming hostel watched Eurovision and I had a couple of beers with them. It is a really nice, relaxed place and it was good to speak to people properly for the first time in a while.

I'll try to add some photos later. Most of them are on Facebook but it has got all security conscious with me constantly changing my IP address.

Day 5 - Mustvee to Tartu

"The only Zen you find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there" 

This was by far the hardest day. Leaving Mustvee behind is a beautiful stretch overlooking the lake. On a clear day it might just be possible to see the far bank, but it is big enough that waves lap the shore.

I dropped down a gear from my usual cruising speed to ease my aching legs into the journey. Cycling with a heavy weight - and not just my belly - on the back of the bike is an odd sensation. Rhythm becomes a lot more important, and acceleration is a lot slower although average speed is not much slower. I'm averaging just above 20 kilometres an hour moving speed, whereas I'd probably do about 25kph in Moscow on a short ride.

The road along the lake has lots of cute wooden houses and a bunch of places to stay. The area could be really good for tourism, but the season appears to be quite short.

Sadly the route leads away from the lake and into some exposed hills. For miles there is nothing to see except what once must have been farmland, but doesn't seem to be used for much now. The girl running the hostel in Tartu later explained to me that EU regulations decimated much of Estonian farming. The wind picked up again and there really wasn't a lot to see until arriving in Kallaste, where the signposts took me off road and down to the lake again. It was only here that something clicked. Some of the little paths Eurovelo takes in are simply to comply with the principles of having somewhere to stay within a certain distance.

The aftereffects of the 120km ride the day before were really hitting home, and it was difficult to build up speed or rhythm, particular with the wind blowing into my face from the lake. Eventually I arrived at Alatskivi, where a sign said 40km to Tartu on the road or 79 by Eurovelo and Estonian cycle route 3. The road was the same one I'd been following for the last hour or so and there were barely any cars so I abandoned the ridiculous section and went straight along the road.

Despite feeling a little guilty about not doing all the Eurovelo - OK, that was never going to happen as it doesn't exist in Russia and apparently is pretty sketchy in Latvia - the kilometres slowly ticked away.

In Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance Pirsig talks about how the real zen is in the process of climbing the mountain. The man who sees the aim as solely getting to the top will neither get there, but also has the wrong attitude anyway.

Enjoying the moment also has to be done while in the saddle. Times can get tough particularly when the road stretches into the horizon and your back is arched trying to be as streamlined as possible. These are the times when being at one with the picture, the complete absence of people is important.

A tough ride up a steep hill and back on the highway 3 took me into Tartu, where I found the Big Ben Pub, which had a WiFi signal outside. I popped in for a coke and to look for a decent hostel, which I found in Looming.

Day 4 - Johvi to Mustvee

The map said 53 kilometres to Rannapungerja. The sign on the cycle path read 80 kilometres. This was just the start of the nightmare.

The route from last night's rather poor - and even overpriced at 16 euros - hotel was straight into a headwind. Road works leaving the stretch as a muddy track and rain setting in all made for heavy going. After three days of beautiful cycling weather the gods were finally getting their revenge.

I decided to put my foot down, but the signposts headed me off the road and onto another rocky track taking in more climbs. The hills were getting steeper and it was looking like a long day in the saddle.

Eventually the track, which appeared to be used solely by lorries servicing some kind of mine, turned back into paved road. The best thing about traveling alone is how simple things can suddenly make the world seem a different place, and I was determined to get some serious distance in as things improved. For a couple of hours I didn't see anyone else until rejoining the highway "3" somewhere near Jouga. It certainly made nicer cycling off-road, but nobody was getting anywhere fast.

Again the Eurovelo veered off 3, this time in the opposite direction towards Iisaku. Estonia name every town and signposts them, even if they only consist of one family and a doghouse. Each mark on the map tentatively promises lunch, but this only arrived with the shops at Iisaku, over 40km into the ride.

Starving, I stuffed my face with way too much bread and cheese sitting on the bench in a playground. It was great to watch everyone else in the village getting around on their bikes, but it was unclear what anyone actually does. Sadly there had been an amazing place to have lunch a few kilometres back down by a lake (photos arriving shortly).

After a rest as hefty as the food it was off again to Rannapungerja. The sun was out and I felt like I was racing to stay ahead of the incoming weather. Again it was off on a detour to avoid all civilisation and generally not go towards the place I was planning to stay.

The tension in my legs was ramping up as I arrived at my destination, only to be told there wasn't anywhere to stay. As I appeared to still be staying ahead of the clouds it was off again to Mustvee, 20 kilometres on 3 but 45.4 kilometres up through the woods.

With each pedal stroke I was gradually getting weirder and started using strange distraction techniques, including working out how many cars could have number plates in Estonia. They have three letters and three numbers - answers on a postcard. Halfway through their is a beautiful town called Avinurme with a quaint hostel. A river runs under wooden bridges and it was really tempting to stay, but almost certainly would have left me with too much to do the next day. The wind was up again marring any benefit from the first consistent stretch of downhill I'd had all day, but Mustvee is on the huge Peipsi lake so I wanted to check it out.

Despite the nice - and completely empty - Ironi hostel the town is pretty disappointing. I suspect it could be much nicer in summer, but it felt a bit deserted and quiet, particularly compared to the countrified Avinurme. Other stretches of the lake had little triangular holiday villas and beaches along a wooded patch down to Rannapungerja, and there appeared to be plenty of bed and breakfasts to break this ride into two days.

Depending on the weather I'm going to head for Tartu tomorrow and then take a rest day there.

Day 3 - Kingisepp to Johvi

Another 90 kilometres knocked off the target - and with the prospect of some bad weather coming I'm feeling a little less optimistic. The temperature is set to drop from 22 to 13 overnight. Could be good to give my red arms a break from the sun. My left arm is definitely more tanned/burnt than my right due to forever cycling west.

After a late start and a failed bike shop, which didn't have any oil for my chain Kingisepp faded into the distance. A 20 kilometre run down to the border was rather hairy with trucks going past, but quick enough downhill. There turned out to be a road running parallel to it, which I'd recommend to anyone trying this route.

After chilling on the riverbank and popping into the last produkty - which in true Russian style had no useful products - the border guards ran a chilly eye over my passport before letting me through.

Almost immediately after the town square in Narva (Estonia) the hallowed land of the Eurovelo 1 started. Estonian routes 1 and 3 (to start with they are the same thing) leapt straight into a headwind and a deceptively long straight. Persistence and an aching back from leaning into the breeze were rewarded with a patch through a wood, which felt like an Estonian Centre Parcs with a bunch of holiday homes. Things were definitely getting more Western, despite everyone speaking Russian.

Even after 3 days lunch of sandwiches in whatever store I pass is already getting a bit boring, and without heavy cutlery there is little option but ham and cheese. The small things in life make a big difference, especially butter on sandwiches.

After the sporadic Eurovelo signs led onto a quiet highway it meandered off on a detour towards the town of Toila. While lorries definitely make you feel small and fragile, the cost of going off road is an extremely sore bum. The path back towards the coast took in some lovely countryside, but instead of either paving it or leaving it as mud they stick in a few rocks that just make things bumpier. And despite the increased safety the Eurovelo just rejoins the road it sought to avoid anyway.

The route is definitely still a work in progress. The brochure promises no hills steeper than 6 percent, and after a couple of these I decided that was about right. Then, I saw a sign saying the descent would be 12 percent. Sadly there was no time to feel sorry for those coming the other way as it went straight back up the other side with the same gradient. An elderly couple were also panting at the top and laughing. With 90 litre panniers a 12 percent climb is pretty hefty, but luckily it was relatively short.

Johvi was a 10km ride away and is a fairly nondescript town. The hostel was rubbish for 16 euros, but at least I had my own room.

Day 2 Gostilitsy to Kingisepp

Again it was back on the R-35 with Co-pilot trying to direct me onto any track not worth a name. Our relationship improved as I started to ignore it until it accepted my belligerence.

There are signposts every kilometre and counting these is like watching the minutes on the clock at the back of a class room. The more you pay attention the slower it seems to go. After about 100 kilometres over both days on R-35 I turned onto R-42, which was, perhaps unsurprisingly, exactly the same. Russia is very flat with not a lot happening in it.

The change of scenery was actually a bit of a gamble as it meant going on the scarily named M11 to escape trudging a further 23 kilometres in the wrong direction to enter Kingisepp by a back route. I had visions of cycling down the M25 (or MKAD for you Russians), but then realised I'd crossed it earlier without seeing a single vehicle in either direction. It was busier going into Kingisepp, but not ridiculous and even becomes a 40kph road through the city.

Reading this back I feel like Rimmer explaining his game of risk, but when you stare at a road, a wheel and the horizon all day they tend to dominate your thoughts.

After popping into a shop shattered one babushka told me her life story, and then what all her relations do. If I wasn't already tired physically my mental capacities were certainly getting weary. Luckily she did direct me to a hotel. After a trek around all the nice ones in the city to find they were full I found the grottiest place in town which offered me a room for 800 roubles providing I was willing to share it anyone else who had the misfortune to be forced to stay there.

Enough complaining - the hotel was actually surprisingly decent, and dinner in an equally shabby looking place was positively good.

Will update you with days 3-5 tomorrow.

Day 1 - Pete to Gostilitsy

Before even setting off I wanted to be sick to get the lump out of my throat. As a procrastinator the size of a task is a twinkle in the distance that suddenly looms in my face when I turn around. One step at a time - it was only 56 kilometres to Gostilitsy. Well, 57 if we include heading off the wrong way down the street.

Getting out of Saint Petersburg was always going to be the worst part. Leninsky Proskpekt is a nightmare, particularly due to its status as a pseudo motorway. One minute you'll be cycling along in the lane with all the parked cars and wide payments when all of a sudden you're thrust into a three lane highway with slip roads spraying off in all directions.

Luckily this is not an obituary, and the rhythm eventually settles down once it leads onto Petergofskoye Shosse. Once out of the city I started experimenting with Co-pilot, the back-chatting navigation app that spends most of the time telling me to turn around.

After some dubious advice I made it to the park at Petergof. Seeing as I was running a bit late I took a few photos, had the Russian equivalent of bakewell tarts and scampered. From there the love affair with R-35 - and the navigation arguments with Co-pilot that would make a married couple ashamed - started.

Russia, vast as it is, is mostly empty. Therefore any intercity route has an ominous sounding name and status that means any device set to avoiding major roads will immediately decline it. Riding R-35 made me realise that, in fact, there is nowhere for anyone to go except from Moscow to Pete and the Golden Ring. And the condition of the road was so bad that anyone wanting to take it would probably just shuffle off and find something better to do anyway.

Cars will suddenly swing onto the other side of the road to avoid a giant pothole and some make such slow progress it is not impossible to keep pace with them.

After a few nondescript villages R-35 came to Gostilitsy. The town has a school, a cafe and three produktys all next to each other. The woman in the shop laughed when I asked if there was anywhere to stay, but said I could camp down by the lake.

Cycling down the dirt track next to some buildings that made it seem the Germans had only just left I found the real reason cyclists where sunglasses: to keep flies out of their eyes.

As usual a few guys were fishing and drinking down by the water, but I pitched my tent and chilled out. Before driving back absolutely off his face one guy had a conversation with me that went round in circles as he insisted he was a bandit and someone would steal my bike in the middle of the night. Some youths he reckoned, though all the young people seemed to have evacuated the desolate countryside already.

Last day in Moscow

A guy from Rome once said that the Colosseum was a real problem because there was never anywhere to park near it.

And it a way that is similar to Moscow - not just because there is nowhere to leave a car - but that behind the everyday drudgery of unsmiling metro faces there is a beautiful city.

Sometimes it just takes not living there to see that.

Admittedly the last training session was through VDNKh and Sokolniki - two of the nicest areas of the capital - but even cycling through the suburbs of towering apartment blocks towards the ends of the metro is surprisingly pleasant.

The sense of nostalgia is also not the most swiftianly-subtle sign that nerves are beginning to kick in. The train to St. Pete leaves at 1 in the morning (Monday) and after a day in the Venice of the north the first etap to Gostilitsy starts on Tuesday.

A mere 56 kilometres ride should be easy enough since most days are 80-90 kilometres according to the route planner, but what lies in this tiny town is unknown.

The last update from the runet (the rather outdated Russian version of the internet that still lists shops that closed down six years ago) was in about 2007. Supposedly there is somewhere to stay according to the maps - but they didn't survive their treacherous journey with Pochta Rossii.

The next post should spring from there if the town is still connected to the web. Thanks to everyone that has donated, and please keep giving. It is a really important cause. www.justgiving.com/edwardbentley