Fun fact about me: in all three tours I’ve joined since starting at TDA, I’ve always been there at the beginning. I arrive with things from the office, meet the crew and riders, and share those first exciting days when the whole adventure is still ahead. But I’ve never experienced the other end of it.

What does it feel like to reach the finish after weeks on the road together? To share that enormous sense of accomplishment and camaraderie – mixed with the bittersweet realization that you did it, but will soon have to say goodbye to the people who became your little travelling world? Finishing a full tour with the riders and crew is one of my biggest dreams. And if I ever get to choose where it happens, I would love to cross that finish line in Thessaloniki on next year’s Plum Ride Cycling Tour.

The White Tower

Stay A Little Longer

But then comes another question: what do you actually do when the tour is over? Do you pack your bike, grab your bags and head straight to the airport? Or do you give yourself more than one day to recover, celebrate and enjoy one of Greece’s most underrated cities? I know what I would choose. I might even unpack the bike – although, after almost 3,500 kilometres, we would have to see how convincing I find that idea in real life. Thessaloniki isn’t a cycling capital, and its bike infrastructure is limited, so this isn’t the place to casually explore every neighbourhood on two wheels. The flat waterfront, however, is the exception: a roughly five-kilometre stretch connecting the port, White Tower and Concert Hall, passing the famous Umbrellas by the famous sculptor Giorgios Zoggolopoulos along the way. It sounds like the perfect easy ride for legs that have already done quite enough.

>>Related Post: Gdansk: A Cycling Capital In The Heart Of Poland

Pedalling past the ‘Umbrellas’

More adventurous riders could look beyond the city towards the forested hills of Seyh Su or Mount Chortiatis but those are proper mountain-biking outings that would require some local route research, not spontaneous post-tour wandering.

Bike or no bike, I would stay for the food alone. This is Greece, after all. I would give myself a couple of gloriously unproductive days dedicated to tavernas, pastries, seafood and discovering exactly how many different things can be improved with feta and olive oil. I would simply wander around the Ladadika district and slip into a couple of tavernas without even checking Google reviews, just choosing whatever catches my eye.

Then I would switch on my history nerd mode. Thessaloniki offers several directions to take it! I could explore ancient Macedonia at the Archaeological Museum, dive into the city’s Byzantine past at the Museum of Byzantine Culture, or visit the Jewish Museum to understand Thessaloniki’s once-thriving Jewish community and what happened to it during the Holocaust. Different chapters of the same remarkably layered city – and knowing me, choosing just one might be the real challenge.

And if a couple of days somehow became a few more, Thessaloniki would also make a great base for exploring the region: ancient Pella, birthplace of Alexander the Great, or Litochoro and Mount Olympus. Climbing Olympus is not exactly a casual day trip – it deserves proper planning and, depending on the route, more than one day – but after cycling across Europe, perhaps one more mountain wouldn’t sound completely unreasonable.

Perhaps that is what I would want from Thessaloniki: not another achievement to add immediately after cycling through nine countries, but a little time to understand that the adventure is actually over. To sit by the sea, eat something ridiculously good, replay the past 45 days and slowly get used to the strange idea that tomorrow you won’t be getting back on the bike with the same people.

I still don’t know what finishing a tour feels like. But I imagine it is a confusing mixture of exhaustion, pride, relief and not being quite ready to let go. And Thessaloniki – with its waterfront, layers of history and very persuasive amounts of feta – seems like a pretty good place to stay with that feeling for a little longer.

Hopefully, one day I’ll find out for myself.

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Plum Ride

Plum brandy has a long and illustrious history in Central and Eastern Europe, beginning as far back as the 14th century. Distilled from local plums...

]]> https://tdaglobalcycling.com/2026/07/thessaloniki-the-plum-ride-finish-line-but-not-quite-the-end/feed/ 0 https://tdaglobalcycling.com/2026/07/to-cycle-or-not-to-cycle-a-tale-of-vehicle-transfers-on-tda-tours/ https://tdaglobalcycling.com/2026/07/to-cycle-or-not-to-cycle-a-tale-of-vehicle-transfers-on-tda-tours/#respond Mon, 27 Jul 2026 13:32:03 +0000 https://tdaglobalcycling.com/?p=65793   Over the past 20 odd years TDA Global Cycling has earned its spurs by cycling across countries and continents.]]>

Over the past 20 odd years TDA Global Cycling has earned its spurs by cycling across countries and continents. Cycling the entire route has always been a primary element of our tours, but from the very first Tour d’Afrique in 2003, which included a ferry transfer across Lake Nasser between Egypt and Sudan, TDA Global Cycling has found interesting ways to transfer our cyclists by means other than bicycle when necessary.

>>Related Post: Paradise Lost – The Good Ship S.S. Sagalnaam

Most often a transfer by boat, train, bus or plane is incorporated into the tour route long in advance, as part of the original planning of the tour. This can be done to avoid areas with political unrest or closed borders, to avoid dangerous traffic, or simply to cross an area where roads or bicycle paths do not exist.

Colombia boat transfer on the 2024 South American Epic (San Marcos to Ayapel)

It also is done at times to add to the overall enjoyment and experience of the tour, such as the boat journey along the Bosporus into Istanbul at the end of the Istanbul Express, an overnight ride on the Trans-Siberian Railway in Mongolia during the Silk Route, or an amazing journey by small watercraft through Colombian wetlands on the South American Epic.

Some transfers we’ve organized over the years were not planned pre-tour, but created out of necessity along the route, to avoid potentially unsafe situations. These transfers can be temporary additions to tours, due to reasons such as sudden protests, political unrest, weather events related to climate change, and other causes. In all cases, we make these decisions based on rider safety and enjoyment.

Let’s take a look at some of the reasons for, and history of transfers on TDA tours.

Geopolitical

Some are temporary and unexpected. For example, in August 2008, the Silk Route (which at that time ran west to east, Istanbul to Beijing) was just about to cross the border from Turkey into Georgia when Russian forces invaded that country. Instead, the riders retreated to the Turkish town of Kars and were bused to Ankara. From there, they flew to Baku, Azerbaijan where the tour restarted.

Earlier that same year, election violence in Kenya meant that the riders on the Tour d’Afrique had to skip the entire country. The riders cycled all the way to the Ethiopia/Kenya border and then the group bussed back to Addis Ababa to fly to Tanzania while the support vehicles drove through Kenya. After a 2 week break, the group met up in Arusha and the tour restarted from there.

>>Related Post: The Tour d’Afrique Cycling Expedition: The Next 10 Years

On the Silk Route in 2012,  an unexpected clash between the government and local militant groups in Khorog, Tajikistan meant that some of the the riders had to be transferred by Tajik army helicopter to the country’s capital, Dushanbe in order to restart the tour while others arrived in vehicles arranged by the Aga Khan organization.

Some are hard to predict like the December 2025 border closure between Cambodia & Thailand, which remains to this day. As a result our 2026 Bamboo Road cyclists will fly from Siem Reap to Bangkok. On the positive side, this closure allowed us to create an exciting new route from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap that includes both a bus and boat transfer!

>>Related Post: The Bamboo Road: Cambodia Update

The continuing horrific situation in Sudan and the ongoing civil unrest in Ethiopia has meant that for the past few years, and likely long into the future, the Tour d’Afrique includes a flight transfer from Aswan, Egypt to Nairobi, Kenya to avoid those conflicts.

Environmental

Unexpected rain in Namibia on the 2026 Tour d’Afrique

We have had to occasionally transfer groups before due to extreme rainfall and flooding, such as a camp on the South American Epic in Argentina in the foothills of the Andes, but have generally avoided any longer transfers due to climactic events. However, climate change is accelerating. Extreme summer heat in Europe. Typhoons in Asia. Drought and forest fires in North America. In response, we need to be prepared, flexible and quick to adjust.

Developmental

The Great Eastern Road in 2006

As countries around the world, especially those of whom in the past have had poor road infrastructure, see an increase in their wealth, the first thing that happens is more cars and trucks appear on the road. In 2006, when I cycled the Tour d’Afrique, the Great Eastern Road through Zambia was, to me, a wonderful ride. There were virtually no vehicles on the road at anytime and the cycling was divine. Fast forward 20 years and we now have rerouted the riders into Zimbabwe to avoid the traffic. This change meant taking a ferry across Lake Kariba which, happily, turned out to be a favourite memory for many cyclists on the tour!

>>Related Post: Suspended In Time: A Ferry Ride On Lake Kariba

It is not just in Africa, this situation is occurring everywhere and requires us to seek out even more remote and quiet roads for riders to pedal on.

Enhancement

Leaving a ferry on the 2025 Island Hopping Japan tour

Some transfers, such as mentioned in the introductory paragraphs here, are not done out of necessity, or unsafe situations, but are done purely to enhance the overall tour experience. Long and arduous bicycle tours at times can benefit from a day or two of a different mode of transport, whether that be Island Hopping by ferry in Japan, a mountain train journey in Sri Lanka, or a bus / game drive across Kruger National Park in South Africa. Though this isn’t something we choose to do lightly, a group transfer can allow TDA to maximize the experience on tour.

It is a credit to our staff, past and present, both in the field and back in the office, that we have been able to successfully deal with a wide variety of these situations, especially the unexpected ones and still create incredibly unique and memorable travel experiences that only TDA Global Cycling knows how to pull off.

Our newest cycling expedition, Africa: Ocean to Ocean, takes riders through seven fascinating Southern African countries. In this post, we take a look at what cyclists can expect on their journey through country number 3, Botswana.

Okavango Delta

Impala splashing through the Okavango Delta

One of the natural highlights of Africa is the extraordinary Okavango Delta. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, its waters support a vast array of wildlife such as lions, cheetahs, leopards, African wild dogs, elephants, buffalo, hippos and impalas. It is best viewed either from above on a sightseeing flight or at ground level in a traditional dugout canoe and the tour stops in the nearby town of Maun for 2 rest days in order to give the cyclists ample opportunity to experience this unique place.

>>Related Post: Cycling Angola

Elephants

Did you know that Botswana is home to over 130,000 elephants? That is about 1/3 of all the African elephants on the planet! For about 180 kms, the Africa: Ocean to Ocean route follows the path of our legendary Tour d’Afrique Cycling Expedition and its appropriately named section, the very popular Elephant Highway. Cyclists will have the opportunity to see these magnificent creatures from a unique perspective, the seat of their bicycle.

Makgadikgadi Pans National Park

After leaving the ‘Elephant Highway’, the route takes the riders along the edges of the vast (12,000 sq. kms) Makgadikgadi Pans, some of the world’s largest salt flats. This uninhabited National Park features a harsh beauty, with lone baobab trees standing out against a vast emptiness. Wikipedia mentions that “one of them (baobabs), named after James Chapman, served as an unofficial post office for 19th-century explorers.” it also is home to herds of antelopes, zebras and wildebeest along with a number of lions.

>>Related Post: Cycling Namibia

Francistown

Abandoned gold mining equipment

Just before the riders cross into Zimbabwe, they will stop in Francistown which was founded by an English gold prospector, Daniel Francis, and is the only town in the country with an English name. It was the centre of Southern Africa’s first gold rush in the 1860’s with adventurer coming from all over the world looking to make their fortune. Riders can visit the Supa Ngwao Museum which has exhibits on both the gold rush and cultural displays on the local Kalanga peoples.

Recommended Reading:

Peter Allison – Whatever You Do, Don’t Run: True Tales of a Botswana Safari Guide
Mark & Delia Owens – Cry of the Kalahari
Bessie Head – When Rain Clouds Gather
Will Randall – Botswana Time
Eleanor Morse – White Dog Fell from the Sky

Recommending Viewing:

Elephant Refugees (2020): A documentary about how the Elephant Sands Bush Camp sheltered hundreds of elephants during a severe drought.
A United Kingdom (2016): The true story of Prince Seretse Khama of the Bangwato tribe and his marriage to Ruth Williams, a white woman from London.
The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980): A classic comedy about the results of a San bushman in the Kalahari Desert finding a Coca-Cola bottle in the desert.

Recommended Listening:

Beautiful Botswana (Apple)
Elephant Conservation in Botswana (BBC)
Botswana: Living with Elephants (BBC)

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Arjuna Boucher-Pertuisot is the Content Creator on the 2026 Road to Valhalla Cycling Tour.

I have always wanted to visit the Scandinavian countries. For years, I have wondered what they do differently to consistently rank among the happiest places in the world and whether some of their habits could be brought into my own life. Is it their connection to nature? Their strong communities? The balance between work and personal time? The saunas, cold plunges and endless coffee breaks?

Now, cycling 3,000 kilometres through Finland, Sweden and Norway on the Road to Valhalla, I finally have the chance to experience this way of life from much closer. At first, however, happiness was a little difficult to see through rain-covered glasses. We left Helsinki beneath a grey sky, cycling through steady rain with soaked gloves and water finding its way into places we had hoped would remain dry. It might not sound like the beginning of a story about happiness. Yet Finland, Sweden and Norway all sit near the very top of the global happiness rankings. Three of the world’s happiest countries, connected by one long bicycle journey.

The World Happiness Report is not simply counting smiles. It asks people to evaluate the overall quality of their lives, taking into consideration factors such as social support, health, freedom and trust. Those ideas can feel abstract when viewed on a chart. But after cycling through Finland and into Sweden, slowly, and quite literally kilometre by kilometre, I am beginning to understand what some of them might look like in everyday life.

Nature Is Part of Life

Here, nature does not feel like somewhere you escape to on the weekend. It is built into daily life. Forests begin at the edges of towns. Lakes sit beside homes, parks and bicycle paths. Islands are connected by small ferries, while docks and swimming platforms appear almost everywhere there is water. Even the cities make room for it. Helsinki opens onto the Baltic Sea, Turku gathers around the Aura River and Stockholm spreads across islands with parks and water woven throughout. People are not necessarily doing anything extraordinary outside. They are walking, cycling, swimming, sitting beside the water or sharing coffee. Nature does not need to become an expedition before it can be enjoyed.

Finland’s Everyman’s Rights and Sweden’s Right of Public Access also give people the freedom to walk, cycle and spend time across much of the countryside, as long as they respect the land, wildlife and those living there. The idea is wonderfully simple: nature should be part of everyone’s life, but that freedom comes with responsibility. Our rainy departure revealed something else. People here do not seem to wait for perfect conditions before going outside. The rain arrives, jackets come out and life continues. Plans are adjusted rather than abandoned. I am fairly certain no happiness survey asks whether you enjoy putting wet socks back on in the morning, but the weather is not treated as an obstacle standing between you and life. It is simply part of life.

Time for Fika

Once we reached Sweden, another part of Nordic culture began appearing in cafés and village bakeries: fika. At its simplest, fika is a break for coffee, usually accompanied by something sweet. But calling it a coffee break does not quite capture the idea. Fika is also about deliberately making time for other people.

On a cycling tour, this makes immediate sense. Helmets and gloves collect on the table. Coffee arrives. Someone orders a simple pastry or a slice of cake to go with it. Stories from the morning are exchanged and the group reconnects before returning to the road. Connection does not always require a major event or an elaborate celebration. Sometimes it is built through an ordinary ritual repeated often: coffee, something sweet and enough time to be present with the people around you.

Heat, Cold and the Finnish Sauna

And then there is the sauna. In Finland, sauna is not simply a spa treatment or something reserved for a holiday. It is part of ordinary life, found in homes, apartment buildings, lakeside cottages, hotels and public spaces. After a long cycling day, its appeal is easy to understand. You sit. You breathe. Tired legs begin to relax. Nobody needs to be productive, and there is nowhere else to go.

Then, for those willing, comes the cold lake or sea. The first contact with the water removes every thought from your mind except one: this is extremely cold. A few moments later, however, you feel intensely awake. You return to the heat and begin again. There is something distinctly Nordic about finding pleasure not by escaping the cold, but by moving between cold and warmth.

Maybe We Already Know the Recipe

Of course, it would be too simple to say that forests, fika and saunas explain why these countries rank so highly. Happiness is also influenced by economic security, health, freedom, trust and strong social systems. But after spending time here, the everyday recipe does not seem quite as mysterious as I expected. Perhaps it is not so far from what many of us already know. Good company. Good food. Time and space to be quiet. Staying close to nature. Moving your body. Going outside even when the weather is far from perfect. Sitting together around a table. Sweating in a sauna before jumping into water cold enough to make you question every decision that brought you there. It all sounds remarkably simple.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize that TDA might have already understood at least part of the recipe. Every day, we go outside and move, whatever the conditions. We share meals, coffee stops, difficult climbs and long stretches of road. There is time to talk, but also plenty of time to be quiet. Time to think while riding alone, followed by evenings spent laughing around a table with people who may have been strangers only a few weeks earlier. Maybe this helps explain why so many riders return for a second, third or even thirteenth tour. They may come back for the countries, the roads and the next big adventure. But perhaps they are also returning to this particular rhythm of life: moving every day, sharing simple moments and becoming part of a small community travelling together.

A cycling tour is certainly not a perfect model for happiness. There are sore legs, mechanical problems, headwinds and moments when the next destination feels impossibly far away. But even those difficulties create connection. Someone waits at the top of a climb. A rider helps another with a flat tyre. Coffee tastes better after hours in the rain, and dinner feels more meaningful when everyone has worked hard to reach the same table. Perhaps happiness is not only about comfort. Maybe it also comes from challenge, purpose and the feeling that you are moving forward with other people beside you.

For now, I am still beginning to make these connections while riding every day through Scandinavia. Maybe it is only the honeymoon phase, the long summer evenings or some kind of Nordic placebo effect. But I do feel very happy here, happy enough that six weeks is beginning to feel a little short, and part of me is already wondering what it would be like to stay longer. We will see whether I still feel the same way by the time we reach Trondheim.

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To a young person into adventure movies, Romancing the Stone was a big hit in the mid 1980’s with Michael Douglas, Kathleen Turner and the country of Colombia in starring roles. For a 10-year-old, with too much faith in Hollywood film productions, it was a first impression of Colombia, as a kind of lush jungle wilderness, with a mix of rich criminal underworld characters, with fancy 4×4 trucks, and rural peasants with mules and horses.

As one gets older, they may discover that Hollywood is a cultural propaganda machine that has never let accuracy or truth get in the way of making money. Of the many inaccuracies in such a movie, one was not seeing any Colombians on bicycles. With the rugged and rural mountain terrain, and challenging roads and paths in remote areas, the bicycle has been a key component of rural transportation since the mid 20th century, with it only slowly being replaced by motorcycles and cars the last decades.

>>Related Post: Colombian Cycling Culture Is A Sight To Behold

This necessity of cycling for transportation and the large number of bicycle riders in the country helped lead to the Vuelta a Colombia bicycle race, whose origins date back to 1951. The race turned Colombia’s strongest cyclists into household names and inspired other Colombians to emulate their success. The race, a multi week stage race, was legendary for its endless climbing, the altitudes reached, and the overall adversity faced. Colombian fans would follow along each day with the race being broadcast across the country by radio. These early heroes of Colombian cycling were, like the early days of the Tour de France, people who persevered through challenging living circumstances, with few economic resources, to rise to an elite level, such as Efrain “El Zippo” Forero, the first winner of the Vuelta a Colombia.

South American Epic riders cycling with the locals

Later generations of Colombian cyclists succeeded on the world stage, including the Café de Colombia cycling team, with its star Luis “Lucho” Herrera in the 1980’s. They became the first Colombian team in the Tour de France and their team branding helped spread the word on the amazing coffee culture of Colombia. Boyaca, Colombia native Nairo Quintana, won the Giro d’Italia in 2014, after getting his start as a child cycling 16km through the mountains to school and to sell vegetables for his family’s income. Later Egan Bernal would become the first Colombian to win the Tour de France in 2019.

All this goes to say that the TDA cyclists here on the South American Epic, in the first weeks of the tour as we’ve crossed from Cartagena to Bogota, have not been alone on the roads, with many local cyclists of all stripes cycling along our route, from professional cyclists to families.

SAE riders and their friends from SiCLas Collective

In Medellin, our TDA cyclists met the SICLAS Collective, a group of Medellin cyclists who promote active transportation, at the edge of the city. As a convoy our cyclists and the SICLAS Collective cyclists rode together towards our rest day hotel, including using roads that had been closed by the Medellin government as part of the famous Ciclovia, a family friendly event on Sundays where many roads are shut to vehicles and thousands, or in Bogota which also has the Ciclovia, even millions of bicycle riders and pedestrians fill the roads. On the way out of the city the TDA cyclists were also guided by convoy from Medellin, and enjoyed the safety and support of the SICLAS Collective, who would cheer for other cyclists on the road, while singing songs, both about biking, as well as on their socialist values.

As the first section of the South American Epic concludes in Bogota, the riders deserve to be incredibly proud of their efforts. There is no casual pedalling in Colombia, as they have cycled through intense Caribbean heat, up 50km plus climbs, gone above 4100m elevation, and cycled 3000m+ climbing days. All can know that they have now proudly earned their place in Colombian cycling culture.

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South American Epic

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Camille Kirby is the Content Creator on the 2026 South American Epic Cycling Expedition.

The TDA bus is parked in the dead centre of the bustling Colombian town of Santa Rosa de Osos, tucked into the heart of the country’s dairy country. Men in cowboy hats and knee-high rubber boots – the unofficial uniform of Colombian dairy farmers -wander the colourful streets, stopping to chat outside bakeries and cafés.

Our vehicle sticks out immediately. Brazilian license plates. A pair of bikes strapped to the back. It’s an odd sight in a town where nearly everyone seems to know everyone else. It doesn’t take long before we’re surrounded by three young boys. One straddles a tiny bicycle while the others circle the bus, each wearing the same curious expression. They want to know where we’re from, certainty we don’t seem like we’ve come from Brazil. In my broken Spanish, I try to explain – “Trabamomos para una gira di ciclistas” – we work for a cycling tour. I lift one hand high into the air – from Cartagena – then lower the other – to Ushuaia, Argentina. “Toda Sudamérica en bicicleta” – all of South America by bike. The boys stare back, completely dumbfounded. Maybe they didn’t understand me. Then one repeats what I said, squinting with a mischievous smile. Another slowly shakes his head. “No es posible.” I laugh. “Sí, vero!”

Mike Cote and Richard Hughes cycle through the foothills of the Andes on Stage 5 of the South American Epic

It’s moments like these that remind you just how unbelievable this journey really is. When you’ve been living on the road, day after day, it becomes strangely normal to wake up, ride across mountain ranges, and end the afternoon in another town. It takes the disbelief of someone else to put our journey into perspective. Eight riders on this year’s South American Epic will pedal the entire length of the continent, from the Caribbean coast of Colombia to the southern tip of Argentina. Countless others will ride individual sections, stitching together the route over several years. Different journeys, united by the same extraordinary road. This is the South American Epic, after all.

For some riders, if they’re going to see a place, they’re going to see all of it. For American Mike Cote, South America had long been on his list – “I wanted to experience South America. Biking is unique in the way that you get to see and smell, and participate in the local roads and climate and people. You’re in the elements for the most part.” Those elements have already kept us on our toes. We began among the sweltering humidity of Cartagena and, within a single week, climbed into the foothills of the Andes, where temperatures can change dramatically from one kilometre to the next. For Maddy Holmes, from Australia, this ride has been a decade in the making – “I was supposed to cycle the length of South America ten years ago.” Life had other plans. Now she’s finally here, choosing the support of a TDA expedition over tackling the continent alone.

Richard Hughes, also from Australia, had never set foot in South America before signing up for the full journey. I ask him, why commit to riding an entire continent you’ve never even visited?, “I guess I thought… why not?” That simple philosophy seems to capture something essential about TDA expedition riders. If cycling offers the most immersive way to experience a place, then why not experience an entire continent that way?

Caroline Powell ponders on the cargo boat taking us from San Marcos to Ayapel on Stage 4 of the South American Epic.

Not everyone is choosing the long-term epic. Some sectional riders are continuing journeys they’ve already begun, others are taking their very first step, knowing they’ll spend years coming back to finish what they started. For Caroline Powell, from the United Kingdom, this section is the continuation of a dream years in the making. “I cycled Lima to Santiago in 2019, and I’ve always wanted to complete the rest of South America. I’ve been looking forward to this section for about six years, and now I’m finally here. I think I’ve wanted to be on a bike all my life, and South America just fascinates me as a continent.” Her previous journey, shared with her husband, was entirely self-supported. On the first day of this tour, she couldn’t believe she didn’t have to carry her own bags. The freedom!

For Maz Crotty, originally from the United Kingdom but now living in the United States, this is only the beginning. She plans to tackle South America ‘chunk by chunk over the next decade, returning until every kilometre is complete. Then there’s Canadian Remi Despres-Smyth, who had never cycled outside his home country before joining us in Cartagena. He’s here to experience TDA life before committing to the North American Epic in 2029. “The only place in the Global South I’ve been to is India, and I didn’t cycle when I was there.” Colombia has been quite an introduction. Few places embrace bicycles the way this country does, and the respect shown to cyclists has left an impression on nearly everyone in the group.

Two curious boys join us for lunch on Stage 5 of the South American Epic.

I keep thinking about those three boys in Santa Rosa de Osos. Maybe they believed me. Maybe they didn’t. Perhaps, to them, we were just a group of slightly crazy gringos passing through town with strange bikes and an even stranger story. But I hope they keep wondering – they went home thinking about the possibility of riding the entire continent on two, non-motorized wheels. Because impossible journeys always sound impossible – right up until someone does them.

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As a child watching hockey games between Sweden and Czechoslovakia, I learned some important words in Swedish – ‘Heja, Heja, Sverige’ – go, go Sweden. And now in my eighth decade of life, I am walking the streets of Stockholm, my brain involuntarily chanting ‘Heja, Heja, Sverige’.

The inaugural Road to Valhalla cycling tour has left Finland behind and the most luxurious ferry I have taken in my life – and I have taken many – brought us to Stockholm. On the rest day, we all went our own way to discover and enjoy what this city has to offer. After walking, walking and more walking, I can tell you there is plenty to do, see and enjoy. It was in a blog I wrote in Florence on the Viva Italia cycling tour that I first used the words, ‘I won’t have time; I won’t have time – even in a hundred years…’

I wrote this simply to point out how much there is to see and experience in Florence, and a short visit is simply a tasting adventure. After spending the day walking in Stockholm, coming across museum after museum, churches and palaces, public art, historical sights, delightful cobblestones streets in the old city, a pedestrian friendly and very busy centrum, there is just so much to discover, to taste and enjoy. And I have not even mentioned all the attractions outside of the old city and the centrum, which I simply didn’t have the time to visit.

So rather than tell you more about all these attractions I thought I would write, as I did in my last blog in Helsinki, a few paragraphs about two individuals from Stockholm who made an impact on the world.

One has a very popular museum named for him while the other has a ‘bench memorial’ marking his deeds. The person with the museum invented dynamite and made a lot of money in munitions. A popular story, which hasn’t been confirmed, but is noted in Wikipedia relates that “In 1888, the death of his brother Ludvig supposedly caused several newspapers to publish obituaries of Alfred in error. One French newspaper condemned him for his invention of military explosives…and this is said to have brought about his decision to leave a better legacy after his death.”

The obituary supposedly stated, ‘Le marchand de la mort est mort‘ (The merchant of death is dead) and went on to say, “Dr. Alfred Nobel, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before, died yesterday. Nobel read the obituary and was appalled at the idea that he would be remembered in this way. His decision to posthumously donate the majority of his wealth to found the Nobel Prize has been credited to him wanting to leave behind a better legacy.”

The other city citizen saved over 10,000 lives during the Holocaust in Hungary only to be taken prisoner in Budapest by the Red Army, never to be heard of again, likely spending years in gulags where he eventually died. Even though I knew both stories, I wasn’t thinking about either of them until I stumbled, first upon the Alfred Nobel museum, and then half an hour later, I noticed a bronze diplomat’s briefcase bearing the initials R.W. on a bench of black granite.

Alfred Nobel, or at least the Nobel Prize, gets ever more worldwide attention every year, nowadays due to one well known American! A Nobel Prize winner for literature Saul Below wrote one of my favourite books – Henderson The Rain Maker. Wikipedia writes about the protagonist in that book – “Despite his riches, high social status, and physical prowess, he feels restless and unfulfilled, and harbours a spiritual void that manifests itself as an inner voice crying out “I want, I want, I want.” Sound familiar?

The second person, Raoul Wallenberg, was the son of well to do Swedish family and has an academy and a digital museum centre named after him in Stockholm that talks about his life work. Outside of Sweden there are many monuments and streets named after him. He has been given numerous humanitarian awards and honorary citizenship in the USA, Canada, Australia, United Kingdom, Hungary and Israel. An annual award that aims to “perpetuate the humanitarian ideals and the nonviolent courage of Raoul Wallenberg” is given annually in Washington, D.C. and by pure coincidence, two months ago my life partner Ruth asked me to watch a new movie called Swedish Connection. Towards the very end of the film, it is revealed that the narrator of the movie is Raoul Wallenberg.

Two Stockholmers, two stories. One about leaving a legacy, one a story of civil courage.

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Road to Valhalla

Valhalla, also known as the Hall of Heroes, was the goal for all real Vikings. Ruled by the Norse God, Odin, only the bravest and fiercest of warriors...

There are cities you visit because they belong on every bucket list. You arrive with a checklist, a carefully saved Google Map, and the feeling that you need to see everything before you leave.

And then there are places like Troyes. Places you never expected to fall in love with. When we rolled into Troyes the day before, we almost bypassed the historic centre. I’d heard the Tour Leader Balazs say it was beautiful, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting much. The following morning was my rest day. Like any responsible traveller, I did what we’re all guilty of doing these days. I opened Google Maps, asked ChatGPT to build me the perfect walking route, pinned all the places I “had to see,” and confidently headed into town.

That plan lasted about five minutes.

Because Troyes has a habit of distracting you.

You spot a tiny medieval alley and think, I’ll just peek in for a second. Then another. Then a hidden courtyard. Then a bakery that smells too good to walk past. Then a little square full of people lingering over lunch. Before you know it, your phone is back in your pocket. The map is forgotten. You’re no longer trying to “see Troyes.” You’re simply wandering through it. And that’s when the city starts revealing itself.

Could I tell you to visit the Cathedral of Saint-Pierre-et-Saint-Paul? Sure. You’ll probably end up there anyway. Should you walk down Rue Émile Zola? Chances are, you will. Should you find Ruelle des Chats? Somehow, Troyes will make sure you do. That’s the beauty of this place. You don’t have to chase its highlights. They quietly appear when they’re supposed to.

Eventually you’ll get hungry. Don’t overthink it. Look around, pick the nearest café, and sit down. Just make sure you’ve learned one important French lesson first: restaurants serve lunch when they serve lunch (between 12 and 1 pm). Miss the service, and the kitchen is closed. But even that’s not really a problem. Find the nearest boulangerie instead. Grab a fresh baguette, a slice of quiche, maybe something sweet for later, and find a shady bench or a little square with a fountain. And that might end up being the better meal. So this isn’t really a guide to Troyes, It’s suggestion to get lost. Put your phone away, ignore your map, take the next little street that catches your eye and trust the city. It knows where it’s taking you.

And one more thing.

What are you doing to me, Istanbul Express?

Day one, you gave me one of the most unforgettable arrivals I’ve ever experienced, rolling into Provins. Day two, you casually introduced me to Troyes… and then had the audacity to schedule a rest day here. If this is only the beginning, I genuinely have no idea what the rest of this journey has in store. No wonder Istanbul Express (formally the ‘Orient Express’) has become one of TDA’s most loved tours. I’m only a few days in…and I’m already wondering how this tour plans to top itself.

]]> https://tdaglobalcycling.com/2026/07/get-lost-in-troyes/feed/ 0 https://tdaglobalcycling.com/2026/07/paalo-nurmi-emil-zatopek-the-road-to-valhalla-cycling-tour/ https://tdaglobalcycling.com/2026/07/paalo-nurmi-emil-zatopek-the-road-to-valhalla-cycling-tour/#respond Wed, 08 Jul 2026 12:19:28 +0000 https://tdaglobalcycling.com/?p=66155   “Mind is everything. Muscle – pieces of rubber. All that I am, I am because of my mind.” –]]>

“Mind is everything. Muscle – pieces of rubber. All that I am, I am because of my mind.” – Paavo Nurmi

“Great is the victory, but the friendship of all is greater.” –  Emil Zatopek

Have you heard of Paavo Nurmi or Emil Zátopek? Helsinki connects these two remarkable people. I am here for the inaugural Road to Valhalla Cycling Tour which will take us from the capital city of Finland, Helsinki, to Stockholm Sweden, onward to Oslo, Norway and then past some amazing fjords to our final destination, the city of Trondheim. But this blog isn’t about cycling.

As is my habit when I come to a place I know little about, I take a walkabout. It is not that there is no cycling in Helsinki. The city has an extensive network as well as great routes such as the Seuirasaarenslka trail which is part of a 130 km long public waterfront system. This 14.4 km cycling and walking route runs through four delightful islands. To top it off, the city had just finished building the amazing Kruunuvuorensilta, or Crown Mountain bridge, for cyclists, pedestrians and light rail at a cost of US$373 million.

Oodi Central Library

So, if I am not writing about cycling, what else should I focus on? There is certainly no shortage of subjects here, starting with world-famous Finnish design. Since 2014, Helsinki has been a UNESCO City of Design and one could easily spend a day in the Design District and still be eager to have more time there. A blog or two can easily be written about Finnish cuisine, ranging from game – bear, elk, reindeer or grouse – to the Finnish staples of herring, smoked fish, or the iconic whitefish vendace, eaten whole and accompanied with tasty rye or sourdough breads.

Kampi Curvilinear Chapel

In Helsinki – a city designed for walkers – you can wander around, admire and write about architecture, ranging from remarkable churches such as the contemporary curvilinear wooden Kampi Chapel or the Temppeliaukion Kirkko church hewn from solid rock, to buildings such as the Oodi Central Library or the Musiikkitalo, the glass and copper fronted Helsinki Music Centre. And let’s not forget Finladia Talo, the landmark concert hall designed by world famous architect Paulo Alto, known for his concept of Well Being and Human Environment.

I could dedicate a blog or two to Helsinki’s 10 million metre underground network of sports fields, art installations, swimming pools, museums, tracks for go karting and running, tunnels, the metro, parking and much more, initially built during the Cold War. To get a feel for it, consider watching Architect Tapi Snellman’s film, Helsinki Underground.

Instead, I will write about a couple of long-distance runners whose achievements and personalities made an impact on their countries and the world far beyond running. Paavo Nurmi, considered to be a national symbol and know as the flying Finn, set 22 world records, won nine gold and three silver Olympic medals and was undefeated in 121 races. If you are interested in finding out more about his impact on Finland and its identity, check out the Wikipedia entry. Without a doubt, a truly legendary figure. And on my walkabout, I came across his statue in front of the Olympic Stadium where Emil Zatopek, a Czech runner – who visited my school when I was a kid – became a running legend at the 1952 Helsinki Olympics.

Emil Zatopek won the 5 km and 10 km gold medals and, at the last moment, decided to run the marathon as well – for the first time in his entire life. To everyone’s surprise, he won that as well, the only athlete to ever win the three races in one Olympics. If you like sports, there are many fascinating stories about these two amazing athletes.

My favourite story, however, is not about running. Zatopek was an officer in the Czechoslovak army in 1968, by then retired from athletics, when the Soviet army invaded the country. Zatopek, along hundreds of thousands of citizens expressed his displeasure with the invasion. For this gesture, he was dismissed from the army and to shame him, the functionaries decided to make him into a garbage collector in Prague. It didn’t work out well for the party. When the public heard that Zatopek was collecting garbage, people waited outside their doors and didn’t allow him to touch the garbage. It was the functionaries who ended up looking embarrassed. So they gave Zátopek another job, as a forester, to keep him away from the public eye.

As a youngster, I was consumed by athletics and read the sport pages from A to Z. Neither Nurmi nor Zatopek have crossed my mind in decades but in Helsinki memories of distant times have come back. Paavo Nurmi became a cultural icon in his country, representing perseverance and excellence, and Emil Zatopek inspired many athletes and non-athletes and is remembered for his generous spirit and camaraderie with fellow athletes. These are good thoughts to have for our challenging cycling from Helsinki to Trondheim.

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Road to Valhalla

Valhalla, also known as the Hall of Heroes, was the goal for all real Vikings. Ruled by the Norse God, Odin, only the bravest and fiercest of warriors...

Sara Frenning was the Content Creator on the 2026 The Odyssey Cycling Tour.

I asked the riders on The Odyssey this very question. Most of the answers started in an expected way. Sunshine, tailwinds, scenery, descents. But as the question lingered, the answers started to shift. Some uphills, some unexpected turn of events, some rain, even some traffic started to seep into this imaginary perfect day on a bike.

Somewhere in between, with a balance between the good and the hard, was where most of the riders landed. A subtle agreement that easy does not always equate to good when it comes to cycling. That the descents are sweeter after a gruelling climb, that the sun feels a little warmer after a heavy rain, and that a deserted mountain road fills you with more freedom after you battled some traffic to get there.

One exceptionally rainy day in Germany proved this. It was raining buckets from the moment we left the hotel until we reached the lunch spot, 70 km later. I kept my head down and battled against the elements, stopping only occasionally to take a photo or two of drenched riders, while trying not to cause permanent damage to my camera. Despite the freezing rain and a  dark cloud that seemed to stretch to the size of Germany itself, almost every rider that passed my plastic bag, wrapped camera, smiled and joked about our situation. Even those who did not smile but simply endured were part of the collective suffering. We felt more like a team than on any of the other days. We all felt the same pain and suffering that day.

Perhaps more importantly, we all felt the same joy when the cloud of doom lightened by just a few shades of grey. Suddenly, the flowers smelled sweeter, the grass was greener, and the otherwise rather mundane landscape seemed like the most beautiful sight any of us had ever seen.

The thing with suffering is that it makes joy easier to find.

A couple of dry socks for drenched feet, a cup of tea for cold hands to hold, an extra layer of protection when Germany decides to dump a record amount of rain on you. All these things are nothing special, nothing you would think twice about on a normal day, but things that, after a long day of suffering on a bike, feel like nothing less than pure joy.

I think this is why so many of us like to ride our bikes. We choose to suffer to remind ourselves how sweet a downhill can be, that bliss can be found in the simple absence of rain. To remind ourselves of how easy pure joy can be.

It’s a privilege to choose our suffering in the form of bike riding, but just like in life, a good day is not only one where everything is easy, but one where we get to practice the art of spotting and enjoying the simple joys life offers, even on a day with many hills.

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The Odyssey

The original Odyssey by Homer followed Ulysses, King of Ithaca, on his grueling ten year trip home from the Trojan War during which he faced and...

Arjuna Boucher-Pertuisot was the Content Creator on the 2026 Journey to the East Cycling Tour.

After thousands of kilometres, countless bowls of rice, endless vending machines, ferry crossings, mountain climbs, quiet roads, busy cities, and more than a few well-earned onsen, the Journey to the East has officially reached its final destination: Sapporo, Japan.

What began in the energetic streets of Seoul became much more than a cycling tour. It became a moving community between riders, staff, bikes, duffel bags, snack stops, laundry missions, early mornings, tired legs, and unforgettable views. For Sheila Morehouse, the tour was a chance to discover two countries at the perfect speed. “The Tour d’Afrique helped me confirm that biking is the perfect speed and manner in which to explore a country. Japan and Korea were complete unknowns to me, so this seemed like a great opportunity to learn a lot in a really granular way.” For Vince Waite, the journey was also about challenging expectations. “I came here to challenge myself with another expedition tour, and to challenge my stereotypes of Japan.” And for many riders, that is exactly what the tour became: a chance to move through South Korea and Japan slowly enough to notice the details: one climb, one meal, one ferry, one convenience store stop, and one unexpected conversation at a time.

The Challenge of the Road

The Journey to the East was beautiful, but it was not always gentle. There were long riding days, steep climbs, changing weather, city transfers, ferries, and the daily challenge of waking up and doing it all again. Riders had to adapt constantly.. to new roads, new countries, new food, new routines, and sometimes to legs that were clearly asking for a rest day. But this is also what makes the wins feel even bigger. For Giselle, each day came with its own uncertainty, but also its own reward. “Every day I thought I was not sure I would be able to ride every day, let alone complete the hills. Most proud to finish and think of the ‘mountains’ as only hills.”

Vince also found himself changing through the climbs. “Steep ascents previously created anxiety for me, and I came to look forward to them.” That is the magic of a long tour. A climb becomes a hill. A hard day becomes a story. A fear becomes something you know how to ride through. For Sheila, the challenge was not only physical. It was also about letting go a little. “I’m proud of overcoming some of my Point A to B tendency, choosing love over EFI, and getting up the climbs.” Some riders were chasing every kilometre. Some were chasing the experience. Most were trying to find their own balance between the two.

The Moments Along the Way

There were plenty of big highlights: arriving in Busan, seeing Mount Fuji on a clear day, cycling through the Japanese countryside, reaching Hokkaido, and finishing near Lake Shikotsu before rolling into Sapporo. But the small moments may be the ones people remember most. A perfect lunch stop. A quiet road through rice fields. A surprise view after a climb. A convenience store snack that saved the energy. A shared table at dinner. A joke that somehow lasted for weeks. A rider overcoming a challenge they were not sure they could complete.

When asked about her favourite moments, Sheila did not choose just one. “Every downhill was an amazing multi-sensory experience. Every single little kid I played with, every single onsen — for better or worse — and being able to ride with Vince this time around were all favourite moments.” For Vince, one of the best parts of the tour was also one of the simplest. “My favourite moment was riding with Sheila and matching our very different styles of riding so that we could stay together.” And Giselle found her favourite memories in the shared rhythm of the group. “Riding with our ‘tribe’ through the many gorgeous winding paths, with canopy over the road, lakes, mountains, and gorges.” In the end, a tour like this is not remembered as one single highlight. It is remembered as hundreds of little moments that slowly become something much bigger.

Two Countries, Many Surprises

South Korea and Japan offered two very different but equally memorable chapters. In Korea, riders found smooth bike paths, riverside riding, busy cities, and a cycling culture that made moving through the country feel easy and exciting. Vince remembered Korea for “the amazing bike paths”, while Giselle was struck by how polite, respectful, and shared the country felt.

Japan brought a new rhythm. The tour moved through islands, mountains, forests, fishing towns, rice fields, temples, shrines, hot spring towns, and some truly impressive hotel dinners. One day might include a tough climb in cold weather, and the next might end with riders walking around in the traditional clothing yukata, before a multi-course meal. For Vince, experiencing Japan completely changed the way he viewed the country. “Japan has literally broken all my stereotypes. I have found it to be a loving, kind place of magnificent beauty.”

A Tour Built by People

Of course, no tour like this happens by accident. Behind every riding day was a team of staff working early mornings, late evenings, and all the hours in between. Bags had to be moved. Routes had to be pre-checked. Lunch had to be made. Hotels had to be ready. Riders needed answers, support, encouragement, and sometimes just a calm voice saying, ‘Yes, you’re going the right way.’ The staff were at all time the invisible engine behind the journey, but the riders brought the magic.

Some brought humour, others their wisdom. Some brought unstoppable climbing legs, others contributed with their excellent snack strategies. And many brought stories from past tours. Together, they created the spirit of the trip. As Sheila put it, one of the things she will miss the most is: “Our cool, quirky group — riders and staff — overeating to try every new food and drink, and the freedom to just ride and explore.” Giselle echoed the same feeling: “I’ll miss the camaraderie and freedom that comes with every day riding.” That freedom was everywhere on Journey to the East. It was in the open roads, the daily discoveries, and the rare simplicity of having one main job each day: ride your bike and see what happens.

What We Take With Us

At the end of a journey like this, it is easy to talk about the goals achieved: distances we passed, destinations that were reached, and elevation that was climbed. Those numbers matter, but they do not tell the full story. The real story is in the people. It is in the rider who overcame more than they ever thought they would. The friendships built over shared ups and downs. The jokes that only makes sense to the people who lived them. The comfort of miso soup, ramen, onsen’s, and, as Giselle reminded us, automatic toilets.

The Journey to the East was not just about crossing South Korea and Japan by bike. It was about discovering what happens when a group of people commits to moving forward together, one stage at a time. From Seoul to Sapporo, it was one incredible ride.

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Journey to the East

While South Korea and Japan are close neighbors, their lands and cultures are completely unique. Cycling across these countries, one after the other...

Our newest cycling expedition, Africa: Ocean to Ocean, takes riders through seven fascinating Southern African countries. In this post, we take a look at what cyclists can expect on their journey through country number 2, Namibia.

*Note: Our flagship cycling expedition, the Tour d’Afrique also passes through Namibia but that route is far to the south of this tour’s path, which explores a new area of this fascinating country.

Kunene River

As soon as the riders exit Angola and enter Namibia, they will begin to pedal westward along the Kunene River. This body of water marks the border between the two countries and is one of the area’s few perennial rivers. Besides hosting a number of crocodiles, it is home to the Kunene River mouth cichlid, a species of fish found nowhere else on Earth. The cyclists will enjoy the views as the river changes back and forth from rushing rapids to quiet lagoons.

Epupa Falls

After following the Kunene River for a couple hundred kilometres, the tour will stop in Epupa Falls, a rather remote and unspoiled location. It is a spectacular sight, especially given the arid surroundings. The water crashes down into a gorge and the shores are lined with baobab, fig and palm trees. Riders can check out the many bird species that inhabit the area or simply sit and enjoy the sight of the falls with Angola’s mountains looming in the background.

Kaokoland

Koakoland is a vast area of northern Namibia and is the country’s least densely populated region (which is saying a lot given that the country’s population density is 3 -4 people per square kilometre!). The climate, although harsh, supports a number of animals such as the unique desert adapted elephant, giraffes, zebra and springbok while hardy succulents and dwarf trees are scattered across the boundless landscape.

Himba Culture

The Himba people, a polygamous, semi-nomadic, pastoral society make their home in Kaokoland, keeping up their traditions and surviving by herding their drought-resistant cattle from one water source to another. The red ochre they use to braid their hair and protect their skin from the harsh sun is distinct to their culture and the women display ornate hairstyles and jewellery made from iron, copper and shells.

Etosha National Park

This iconic National Park, known as ‘The Great White Place’ in the local Ovambo language, features a dry lakebed (Etosha Pan) that is 130 km long and 50 km wide. It can even be seen from space! The park is notable for the large number of watering holes that dot the southern edge of the Pan. These attract an incredible variety of wildlife including elephants, black rhinos, giraffes, lions, leopards, cheetahs and many, many more. Cyclists will enjoy a game drive through the park as part of their experience.

Recommended Reading:

Dr Mary Seeley – The Namib Desert
Neshani Andreas – The Purple Violet of Oshaantu
André Brink – The Other Side of Silence
Sandra Shields – Where Fire Speaks: A Visit With the Himba
Marion Wallace – A History of Namibia: From the Beginning to 1990

Recommended Viewing:

Namibia: The Struggle for Liberation (2007) –  A historical drama that chronicles the country’s fight for independence.
Bikes for Africa (2013) – A documentary following the life adventures of Hap Cameron and Mandy Todd, and their attempt to help implement a self sustainable bike workshop in rural Namibia.|
Kapana (2022) – A heartwarming drama-romance follows an openly gay office worker and a closeted local kapana (grilled meat) vendor who fall in love.

Recommended Listening:

This is Namibia (Apple)
Namibia: The Price of Genocide (BBC)
Journey Back to Namibia: The Story Begins (Spotify)

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Africa: Ocean to Ocean

The original way to cross Africa from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean was the maritime Cape Route past the continent’s southern tip, a perilous...

Paige White, Content Creator on the 2026 Pub Ride, invited riders to reflect on their journey so far. Collected in a notebook passed from rider to rider, these entries capture some of the experiences, challenges, and highlights from the first half of the tour.

On the 2026 Pub Ride, a notebook with a race plate taped to it has been passed around. In it, we asked our riders to describe their experiences so far riding through the first half of the tour. We invited them to share personal stories, highlights, mishaps, and everything in between. Here’s what they had to say so far.

‘Cycling is what brought us together through a common interest. We all have diverse backgrounds, yet cycling makes us cohesive. What a privilege it is to share this energy, laughter, and conversations with others. For me, cycling brings me joy – a heart-and-soul connection to my physical self. It reminds me of how resilient our bodies are. Thanks, TDA, for taking care of all the logistics so that I am able to focus solely on “the ride.”  Wendy Deloume

Wendy rides along the Scottish canals with a group of riders

‘As always, cycling has brought me many new faces and friends. The encouragement and camaraderie, no matter what your cycling experience has been, on the Pub Ride has been fantastic.  Jeff Cohen

Jeff watches other riders go past

‘Rain. Steep hills. Landscapes!’

‘We walked the hills on the moors, with grades over 11%. These short, steep hills zapped my energy. The moors are a unique landscape with amazing views.’

‘It was an exhilarating experience riding out of London. There were other cyclists, traffic, potholes, pedestrians, and an unfamiliar traffic flow. At the roundabouts, it felt like locals didn’t care about their own rules, and it required hyper-focus to avoid any close calls.’ – Notes from Hans, Ross, Ryan, Dave, and Anne while riding the ferry to France.

Hans and Ross – Dad and Son cycling together

‘I learned once again not to turn back to those behind you while informing them that you’re going to look for coffee. If you forget this, you might catch the curb next to you and suddenly have that awful feeling that you are headed for the sidewalk and the concrete wall beside it. Now that we are halfway through the trip, I’m feeling back to normal and almost healed.’  Bart Berg

Bart inspects the damage after a coffee-related mishap in Scotland

‘There is something unexplainably appealing about TDA’s style of travel. Part boot camp, part social experiment, with so many special moments with newfound friends in between. The lunches are always the carrot of my riding days; fresh and flavourful salads can lure me over the steepest hills. In the days and years after these epic rides, I know that I’ll forgive the early mornings, hilly days, and heavy duffel bags. I will smile inwardly with a sense of accomplishment and fond memories of our host countries and fearless tour leaders.’  Melissa Morse

Melissa rides with Susan along some of the beautiful bike paths in Ireland

Sara Frenning, Content Creator on the 2026 Odyssey, reflects on her first TDA tour. From lessons in time management and content creation to unexpected discoveries about the countries, riders, and staff she met along the way, she shares what she wishes she had known before joining the adventure.

When I first got assigned the role of content creator on the Odyssey, my overwhelming feeling was excitement. Little thought was given to the potential hardships or difficulties. In my mind, I was going to get paid to ride a bike and take photos – what was there not to be excited about?

And luckily, my excited mind was right. It has been a dream job in many ways, and I have probably had even more fun than I anticipated. Without sounding too much like a hype machine, my first TDA tour has been amazing so far.

With that said, running a TDA tour is not for the faint-hearted. The staff works hard, often around the clock, to make the tour the well-oiled machine that it is.

One of the best surprises of a TDA tour is the community you become part of

But these are both things I expected. I expected to work hard, and I expected to have a lot of fun. Which makes “What did I wish I knew before my first tour?” a difficult question to answer.

When it comes to the content creator role in particular, there were certainly things I wish I had known and done before the tour. I wish I had built a music library with songs that fit each country, so I wouldn’t have to spend hours sifting through endless music lists on Motion Array and Instagram during the trip. I wish I had prepared a shot list and planned my reels in more detail.

Behind every great tour is an incredible team

In general, time management is incredibly important. Instead of scrambling to put a post together at the end of the day, opting out of some of the day’s fun to get editing done often pays off in the long run. But when it comes down to it, spontaneity and the ability to create in the moment are equally important on a TDA tour – and perhaps part of the charm of this type of job.

When it comes to the tour in general, I felt prepared, but I guess I wish I had known that Greece could be so cold (bring that puffy jacket), that Albania would be so beautiful (plan to ride as much as possible), that Montenegro would have such kind people (plan to stop often and talk to them), that Bosnia’s history was so rich yet harrowing, that Italy could get so much rain (rain pants are definitely needed), that Austria would have such amazing bike paths, and that Germany would actually have really good food (sorry, Germany).

I also didn’t expect to learn world-class lessons in logistics and organization from Katie, our tour assistant; lessons in leadership – and how to be an absolute boss lady – from Carolina, our tour leader; the value of a positive attitude and how to laugh until my belly hurt from Doug, our bike mechanic; or how to stay calm in the middle of a TDA storm from Micah, our other tour assistant.

I also didn’t expect to be so inspired by the riders. Most of them are in their 70s, yet they remain incredibly strong, resilient, and healthy.

In short, I wish I had known that I would not only get to do a really fun job, but also do it alongside world-class people whom I feel lucky to have met. In any job, it’s a gift when you genuinely enjoy spending time with your coworkers, and on this tour, I was truly fortunate in that regard. But in the end, the best preparation for a TDA tour is an open mind and a sense of excitement. That will take you very far.

Have you heard of mini-retirements? Until a few days ago I certainly hadn’t. And what are mini-retirements anyway? Is it something like mini golf, a small playful version of real retirement? Or is it a thing that has been around forever, but some creative media decided to rebrand it, give it a new name and make it trendy?

Judith on the 2026 Odyssey

There is a rider on the current Odyssey tour in Europe, who happens to be my sister, who graduated from university with a masters degree in economics and received an excellent position in the Canadian Ministry of Finance. Her future looked bright. Except there was a minor problem –  after a few years, she wasn’t happy. She wanted to quit. What she really wanted to do is travel the world.

I suggested that she ask for a leave of absence for a year. She was reluctant, who will give her a leave of absence after only few years of working? She spoke to her colleagues whose reaction was “this will be the end of your career”. She tried anyway. To her surprise the Ministry gave her a leave of absence or call it sabbatical without pay. She spent a year bumming around Asia and came back to work.

A few months later, there was an opening at the office of the Canadian Executive Director at the IMF in Washington DC for an advisor. This was rather a desirable position and a dozen people put their name down including our wanderer. She thought that her chances were slim but it turned out that the Executive Director was looking for someone who had a broad world view, and given her recent travels, she was selected. She never looked back…

On the first Tour d’Afrique Cycling Expedition we had the pleasure of having a senior detective with Manchester police riding with us. When he heard about a bicycle expedition tour across Africa from Cairo to Cape Town, he went to his boss and said: ‘I am burned out. There are two options, I quit or you give me a year of absence’. The captain knew what to do. There are other similar stories that participants from our expedition tours tell.

A leave of absence can lead to unexpected roads – and unexpected opportunities.

Why am I telling you this?  Well according to Reuters story published on 29^th of May by Hani Richter ‘Why more young people are taking mini retirements’ the individuals above took mini retirements. Who knew! I guess they were trend setters.

The author writes that “a 2025 HSBC Quality of Life report found that Gen Z and millennials are leading a shift among affluent investors … towards treating retirement not as a single moment at the end of working life, but as a series of planned career breaks.”

As I read that I thought of Alex, an engineer who negotiated with his boss for a four-month leave but also managed to negotiate his salary in such a way that his income was reduced by two months in two calendar years and thus saving on taxes he pays. Creativity is the name of the game.

Whatever it is called, a break from work, a mini-retirement, sabbatical, leave of absence, gap year, a necessary strategic reset to supercharge their careers, I am all for it. I may be biased but if you want to supercharge a career, consider taking one of our company’s epic expeditions or start with something shorter. In a recent blog, – It Takes A Village: The TDA Global Cycling Community – I wrote about one of the riders whose life and career took a completely different direction as a result of a tour. And he is not the only one.

There are other reasons why long breaks are a positive idea. On a web site called MONEY UNDER  30 on a subject of mini retirements Chris Muller writes: “According to a study the Society for Human Resource Management, more companies are offering sabbaticals and extended time away from work than ever before. The study also found that employees who take time away from work for a more extended period come back feeling mentally refreshed, psychologically energized, and overall more productive and happier.

Mueller goes on: Many people realize that waiting until you’re in your mid-60s to start a life of peace and relaxation isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. We don’t know where we’ll be financially or physically at that time.”

A change of scenery often leads to a change in perspective.

He then goes on mentioning Tim Ferris book The Four-Hour Workweek and how important it is to enjoy life now. He continues by giving an example of graphic designer Stefan Sagmeister who is known for a TED talk and how he shuts his studio for a full year every seven years to help him become more creative.”

I can only add that though they may not have written books or given TED talks, over the years participants on our epic tours were artists, designers, businessman, high tech workers, physicians and others who took the time off to cycle the world and in the process recharge, redirect, reassess, reboot.

So, if you are one of the people who are contemplating a mini retirement, or just need a longish break, check our offering of adventures. There is much to choose from.

Adventure, friendship, inspiration – and occasionally much more

By the way, you will recall the senior detective mentioned above. On the tour he met another rider a lovely human rights lawyer. Though a policeman and a progressive minded liberal lawyer are not a common match, I am happy to report that they are now happily married and bringing up two youngsters.

Arjuna Boucher-Pertuisot is the Content Creator on the 2026 Journey to the East Cycling Tour.

A riding day in Japan has its own rhythm, and by now the Journey to the East crew knows it well.

Most mornings begin around 7:45 with bag loading first, then breakfast, then the slow migration toward the bikes. Bottles are filled, GPS devices are checked, snacks disappear into jersey pockets, and riders gather outside the hotel in various states of readiness. Some are alert. Some are still negotiating with their coffee. Someone is usually looking for a missing glove, charger, sunglasses or snack that was definitely “right here a second ago.” And if history is any guide, there is a fair chance someone will leave with a hotel key still in a jersey pocket, leaving Kazu, our local support legend, to arrange its return.

Then, somehow, everyone rolls out.

That is one of the funny things about a TDA tour. No matter how scattered the morning feels, the group eventually finds the road.

In Japan, the first kilometres often arrive gently. A few turns out of town and the noise fades. The route slips between rice fields, follows rivers, climbs into forested hills, or passes through small villages where everything looks tidy enough to make you feel underdressed on a bicycle.

Shrines and temples appear without warning. Sometimes they are tucked under trees. Sometimes they sit beside the road so quietly that you almost ride past them before realizing what you have just seen. Japan rewards riders who pay attention, but it also rewards riders who stop often, take pictures, and pretend the photo break had nothing to do with needing a breather.

Some days, the mountains arrive early. The climbs in Japan are not always long, but they can be sharp enough to end a conversation mid-sentence. The group stretches out quickly. Some riders settle into a steady rhythm. Some stand on the pedals. Some stop to admire the view. Some stop to admire the view several times. At the top, the heavy breathing becomes laughter. Someone says, “That wasn’t so bad,” usually after saying the opposite for the last thirty minutes.

Then comes the descent, and suddenly everyone remembers why they like cycling. Japan can be hard on the legs, but it is generous with the rewards.

It is also very good at snacks. A 7-Eleven. A Lawson. A FamilyMart. A vending machine beside a quiet country road. These stops have become part of the day’s culture. For cyclists, Japanese convenience stores are less ‘quick stop’ and more ‘mini expedition.’ Cold green tea, iced coffee, onigiri, steamed buns, sandwiches, pastries, sports drinks, jelly packets, salty snacks, sweet snacks, mystery snacks, and drinks with labels that make you take a leap of faith. Everyone develops a strategy. Some riders stay loyal to one chain. Others test everything. One person swears by onigiri. Another becomes emotionally attached to canned coffee. Someone else walks out with a snack they cannot identify but is willing to defend.

Lunch is the official reset point of the day. TDA staff set up somewhere along the route, and riders arrive in small groups. Shoes come off. Bottles are refilled. Plates are built. The morning gets replayed in fragments: the climb, the quiet road, the temple, the tunnel, the convenience store discovery, and the rider who somehow always leaves late but still arrives early.

After lunch, the day has a different personality. The legs are warmer, sometimes heavier, and the hotel starts to feel like a real destination rather than an abstract promise. Some afternoons keep us deep in the countryside, surrounded by rivers, hills and small villages. Others begin to hint at what is coming: wider roads, larger train stations, more traffic, more buildings.

That contrast has been one of the most memorable parts of Japan.

For days, the group can feel wrapped in calm: mountain roads, forested valleys, temples, hot baths, quiet dinners. Then, almost suddenly, Japan begins to change. The roads widen, the train stations grow, the traffic thickens, and the countryside starts handing the day over to the city.

For both Kyoto and Tokyo, the final arrival came by bus transfer rather than riding all the way into the centre. It was a practical decision — safer, smoother, and probably much better for everyone’s blood pressure. After days of quiet roads, narrow tunnels and mountain villages, sitting in transit while the city built itself around us felt like a strange kind of re-entry.

Kyoto felt layered and graceful even from the approach. Tokyo was another beast entirely: trains, towers, lights, crowds, speed, scale. The same country that gave us silent mountain roads also gives us one of the largest urban worlds on earth.

And between those two worlds, there was Mount Fuji. Fuji does not always show up when you want it to. Clouds can hide it completely. Weather can erase it. So when the sky opened and we saw it completely clear, it felt like the rare celebrity sighting of the section. Riders stopped. Cameras came out. Conversations paused. No one needed to say much. Fuji did the talking.

The riding gives Japan its structure, but the evenings have been their own adventure too. In many hotels, the day ends with a routine that feels very far from sweaty cycling clothes: shoes off, yukata on, and everyone slowly transforming from tired riders into slightly confused but very comfortable hotel guests. The yukata has become part of the daily theatre. After a big ride, there is something funny and perfect about seeing the same people who were grinding up climbs a few hours earlier now shuffling through the hallway in matching robes and slippers, trying to remember which side folds over which.

Then comes dinner.

Some nights, it feels less like a meal and more like a ceremony. Dish after dish arrives at the table: fish, soups, rice, vegetables, pickles, small plates, local specialties, things we recognize, and things we politely study before eating. The presentation is careful, the service is calm, and the table slowly fills until riders are eating like Japanese kings and queens.

Of course, honesty belongs in the story too. After enough mornings of fish, rice, pickles and soup, more than a few riders have admitted they would happily welcome a simple continental breakfast. Toast. Eggs. Fruit. Coffee. Nothing complicated. Just breakfast that does not require interpretation before a big climb.

Thankfully, Japan also gives us the onsen. At the end of a long riding day, the onsen may be the closest thing to a group miracle. Park the bike. Lock it. Find the room. Wash the cycling kit. Rinse off the road. Put on the yukata. Then follow the signs to the baths and step into hot water until the day starts to loosen its grip.

After big climbs, warm roads and hours in the saddle, the onsen changes everything. It turns fatigue into quiet. It makes the hard parts feel less dramatic. It gives riders a few minutes where there is nothing to fix, nowhere to go, and no kilometres left to count.

By evening, the familiar TDA routine returns. Rider meeting. Dinner. Route notes for tomorrow. Devices charging beside the bed. Cycling kit laid out. Snacks moved into jersey pockets. Bags packed as much as possible before sleep. Then lights out, often earlier than anyone would admit back home.

A day cycling in Japan is not built from one big moment. It is made from dozens of small ones: the morning bag shuffle, a climb through trees, a shrine beside the road, convenience store confusion, lunch in the shade, Mount Fuji appearing through clear sky, a yukata after the ride, a multi-course dinner, an onsen after a hard day, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing we get to do it all again tomorrow.

The kilometres matter. The climbs matter too. But what stays with us is the rhythm: ride, eat, climb, snack, soak, sleep, repeat.

And somehow, in Japan, that simple routine feels like a pretty good way to see a country.

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Journey to the East

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Most rides move you through landscapes, but what Plum Ride offers can feel a bit different. When I first saw the route, it felt less like crossing Europe and more like travelling through different eras.

Long Market, Gdansk

It starts in Gdańsk – a true ‘palimpsest’ city that reflects multiple, distinct eras from the medieval and Hanseatic Era to Rzeczpospolita (Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth), Prussian Danzig and finally a modern history and a cradle of the Solidarity movement that reshaped Eastern Europe. You see it in the shipyard cranes rising above the city, but also in the narrow merchant houses along the Long Market, where centuries of Baltic trade still feel visibly built into the streets.

That’s what the Plum Ride starts doing almost immediately – showing Europe not as a sequence of countries, but as overlapping layers of history that keep shifting beneath your wheels.

Then the route enters Czechia, where history starts feeling denser. The ride moves through Bohemia and into Moravia, past Gothic towns, old trade routes, and traces of empires that once shaped much of Central Europe. By the time you reach Prague, centuries seem to overlap almost effortlessly – Gothic towers above tram lines, Baroque facades beside modern cafes, reminders of empires and revolutions folded so naturally into the city that history stops feeling distant altogether. Standing on Charles Bridge early in the morning, with the castle rising above the Vltava, it becomes surprisingly easy to understand why so much of Central European history seems to converge here.

Ottoman Domes and Austro-Hungarian Details in Pécs

The further south you go, the older Europe starts to feel. Hungary marks one of the most interesting transitions on the route. In places like Pécs, former Ottoman mosques stand beside Habsburg-era facades, while vineyards spread across hills once shaped by Roman settlements.

Kalemegdan Fortess, Belgrade

When the route reaches the Balkans, Europe’s historical layers become harder to separate from one another. Belgrade alone has been destroyed and rebuilt dozens of times over the centuries – shaped by Romans, Ottomans, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Yugoslavia, and modern Serbia. Riding into Belgrade, the layers become impossible to ignore. From the Kalemegdan Fortress, where the Danube and Sava meet, you can look across a city shaped by centuries of conflict, reconstruction, empire, and reinvention.

Skopje, North Macedonia

The route continues into North Macedonia and the capital, Skopje, where the historical contrasts become even more complex. Byzantine influences, Ottoman bazaars, Yugoslav modernism, Orthodox churches, and neoclassical facades rebuilt after the 1963 earthquake – centuries of history compressed into one city that somehow feels both fragmented and deeply connected at the same time.

Thessaloniki, Greece

And finally, Thessaloniki – founded in 315 BC and shaped by more than two millennia of overlapping histories, where Roman remains, Byzantine churches, Ottoman influences, and Sephardic Jewish heritage still sit visibly alongside modern everyday life. You can walk from the Roman Forum to the waterfront in minutes, crossing centuries almost without realizing it.

Europe is full of history. The Plum Ride isn’t unique because of that. What makes this ride different is the pace. You move through historical periods gradually enough to notice how one starts blending into another. Roman roads become Ottoman towns. Austro-Hungarian architecture gives way to Balkan rhythms. Byzantine traces begin appearing before you’ve fully realized Central Europe is already behind you.

And maybe that’s one of the things bicycle travel does best – it slows history back down to a human scale.

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Plum Ride

Plum brandy has a long and illustrious history in Central and Eastern Europe, beginning as far back as the 14th century. Distilled from local plums...

Rihab Gouaied was the Content Creator on the 2026 Morocco: Kingdom of the West Cycling Adventure.

It was our last day, from El Jadida to Casablanca. We called it an easy day: short, a small reward after 2,500 km across the Kingdom of the West and a stack of climbs. But rain flooded sections of the road and created one last challenging ride. When the finish line finally came into view, the relief was quiet but deeply felt. Morocco is fascinating. It’s not only a country of constantly changing landscapes, but also a place full of experiences beyond the bike.

Rest days offered plenty to explore: sunrise hot air balloon rides above the desert, visits to the famous Atlas Studios where major films and series were shot, and wandering through the colourful and artistic ANIMA Garden near Marrakech. Over the weeks on tour, we tried new things whenever the route and the clock gave us room.

In Aït Ben Haddou, Pascale took a traditional Moroccan hammam, a communal steam bath and cleansing ritual. The hammam was simple and social: a woman handed her a bucket, ran hot water, mixed in cold from the tap until it felt right, and passed over a ‘kees’, a coarse exfoliating mitt, over the body to remove dead skin –  feeling at the same time like a deep clean and a relaxing massage. There were tiled rooms, steam, low voices, and unhurried care. For someone from Canada, the ritual was new but clear: plain tools, a communal room, and you walk out lighter.

Brice’s dish

Later that day, she and Brice joined a cooking class where they learned to build a tagine and make Moroccan sweets; chopping, spicing, and tasting under local guidance before eating what they had cooked together.

Kent mentioned a detail that will stay with him: if he made a photo book of Morocco, he would fill it with football – on streets and beaches, at schools and on the edge of hillside villages. Children found a flat patch, put two rocks down for goals, and started a game. It struck him how easy it is to play here, and how often, at home, people wait for the perfect surface before they begin.

We had impressive encounters during every part of the tour, but one especially sticks in our memory. Over lunch near the snowy peaks of the Atlas Mountains, we met some nomadic shepherds heading into the mountains for weeks with their sheep. They explained how they walk long distances on foot and stay high in the mountains for the season while the animals graze. What surprised us most was how little they carried: just small bags with a few basic tools and food, no tents or mattresses, simply roughing it out in the mountains.

Birgit navigates a construction zone

In the High Atlas, mornings began wrapped in cloud: cool air, damp gloves, the road vanishing into mist. Rivers braided through valleys while stone and mud-brick villages climbed the hillsides. Switchbacks opened views that made the work feel honest. Then the easy lines disappeared: long construction stretches, single-lane cuts, fresh gravel, convoy trucks, crews waving us through. In areas hit by the 2023 earthquake, repairs were still in progress.

Keith was struck by both the poverty and the kindness of people in the area. During a walk through a quake-struck village, a family invited him and Birgit in for a meal – an act more than any headline could convey.

Staying healthy on the road was equally important. Stomach bugs circled, knees needed care, and small problems could quickly grow. When that happened, we ate plain food, hydrated, added electrolytes, and sometimes took a lift before a niggle became a full stop, so we could start the next day able to ride again.

Dag chased long climbs and quiet roads, but was still surprised by the beauty of the desert sections, “On the one day when we went through the really flat barren desert, it was a very special sort of meditative experience.”

Fabrizio watches the skies

Fabrizio watched the skies and hedges through his binoculars. “They say Morocco has around 430 bird species,” he told us. He counted around 70 during the tour and pointed out birds in the Atlas Mountains that we hadn’t seen in the north. Everyone has their own adventure from time to time. Pascale missed a turn, rode an hour in the wrong direction, laughed, and turned back. Dag’s GPS died near Dades; he rode past the camp and ended up 20 km too far before realizing something was off, with people back at camp wondering where he had gone. At Mountain View, one of our bush camps, bees found Fergal’s tent – especially funny as he had just been jokingly trying to send them towards Rolf earlier. He ended up sprinting out of his tent, swatting and laughing while the camp howled.

Pascale cycling amongst the clouds

In the end, the distances mattered less than the days we shared on the road. We finished with names, places, and simple moments that stayed with us: evenings at bush camps where the crew surprised riders with cold drinks after hard stages, time spent kicking a ball around, and quiet, undistracted reading after long days on the bike. Patrick said it best, “Be very open to what you’re going to experience.” Come for the riding, expect change, adjust, share – and when a short final day turns wet and slow, ride it through.

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Morocco: Kingdom of the West

Join us on this mystical cycling odyssey through Morocco – The Kingdom of the West. It is a country of mountains and beaches, souks and mosques...

Sara Frenning is the Content Creator on the 2026 The Odyssey Cycling Tour.

Over 1400 km, 20 days, 4 countries, 4 languages, 3 currencies, winter, spring, summer, mountains, sea, and flatlands – the Balkans really covered it all.

In the small town of Danilovgrad, Montenegro, on a busy pedestrian street among cafés and restaurants, I asked the young guy at the tourism office what the best thing about Montenegro was. “That you get everything you need, from views to food to culture, condensed in such a small country,” he answered. Unbeknownst to him, his words not only perfectly described our time in Montenegro but also our whole experience biking the Balkans for the last 20 days.

Between Athens and Sarajevo, we have had most of the weather known to man, but also an incredibly rich diversity of cultures, food, fauna, and landscapes, all squeezed into what felt like an impossibly short amount of time and distance.

Before this trip, when I heard someone mention ‘the Balkans’, I had a homogeneous idea of what that meant. For me, I (naively) expected Eastern European architecture, grey buildings, green valleys, and one or two rice-stuffed vegetables across all these countries, but more or less the same. The reality, though, was very different. Even though there is a common thread that ties the Balkans together, each country has its own unique character and energy. The subtle shifts and changes in culture and energy are felt distinctly, especially on a bicycle.

In Greece, the weather was anything but stereotypical. Hail, rain, sleet, and cold temperatures all paid us a visit, but the warmth of the people and good food made up for it. If I were to tell you about the olives, I would need another thousand words, so I will refrain.

From Greece, we entered Albania, a country we all had high expectations for, and it was also the first time we saw the coast on this trip. The coastline along the Ionian Sea created a wonderful contrast to the breathtaking mountain views and farmlands, and, perhaps more importantly, offered the chance to soak our tired bodies in its comforting waves at the end of the day.

Albania is developing fast, and infrastructure and cities are growing, but time still moves differently there. Shepherds in the fields we biked by reminded us to take a breath and move with the phases of nature, and sometimes to move by the pace of the very slow coffee service in the mornings. Albania teaches you patience and acceptance in the best of ways.

Before we knew it, we were in Montenegro, and the asphalt was instantly smoother, the valleys steeper, and the water, if possible, even bluer. We were only in Montenegro for two days, but I sure wished it were longer. On the first day, we were invited by the tourism office in Danilovgrad for coffee, and they made sure all the riders were well caffeinated before the climb up to the Ostrog Monastery, a 17th-century Serbian Orthodox monastery founded by Saint Basil of Ostrog. It is one of the Balkans’ most visited pilgrimage sites. Just one of many examples of Montenegro’s hospitality and rich culture.

Bosnia gave us beautiful scenery and cultural richness. This is where we had the biggest shift in food, and you could see a strong Serbian influence in the dishes. Meat and potatoes seem to be the fuel that gets much of this region through the day, but there is plenty of regional variety in vegetables and seasoning (although my early prediction about stuffed vegetables did come true, there is no shortage of that dish anywhere in these countries).

Stari Most, Mostar, Bosnia

The Bosnian capital Sarajevo, which was under heavy military siege in the 90’s, marked the end of the Balkan section of the Odyssey and was a harrowing reminder that, behind the warmth of the people we met and the ease with which we crossed it’s boarders, there is a complicated social history that draws deep lines between these areas.

As that young man in Danilovgrad told me, the wonder of these countries lies in how much you can experience in such a short distance and time. From Greece’s olive groves and rich history to Albania’s blue coastline, to Montenegro’s smiling people, to Bosnia’s big mountains – it truly has been everything we need.

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The original Odyssey by Homer followed Ulysses, King of Ithaca, on his grueling ten year trip home from the Trojan War during which he faced and...

Arjuna Boucher-Pertuisot is the Content Creator on the 2026 Journey to the East Cycling Tour.

South Korea was never going to be just a warm-up for Japan.

For many riders on Journey to the East, the Korean section began with curiosity and a few assumptions: Seoul, skyscrapers, skincare, K-pop, perhaps some excellent food. What followed between Seoul and Busan was more layered than that. Over several days, the group rode through riverside parks, quiet farming valleys, mountain passes, coastal towns and city corridors where bicycles seemed to have been considered from the very beginning.

The first surprise was the cycling itself.

Leaving Seoul, the route quickly found the Han River and settled into a rhythm that would define much of the Korean section: smooth bike paths, clear markings, bridges built with cyclists in mind, and regular access to toilets, cafés, convenience stores and rest areas. This was not cycling squeezed into the margins of a road system. It often felt like its own system entirely.

Annegrete, who has ridden many long-distance tours around the world, put it simply, “The cycling infrastructure is in a class of its own.”

That became one of the recurring conversations at lunch stops and dinner tables. Riders noticed how the paths moved through the country without feeling separate from it. One moment the group was rolling beside apartment towers and city parks; a little later the same path would open onto rice paddies, rivers, low mountains and small towns. Even near major urban areas, the bike routes often kept a sense of calm.

South Korea also carried its history close to the road. Along the Han River, riders passed concrete military structures facing north, quiet reminders that the Korean War ended with an armistice, not a peace treaty. In other places, monuments and historical markers appeared beside otherwise peaceful landscapes. It gave the ride an unusual contrast: a country that can feel highly modern and organized, while still living beside unresolved history.

Then came the climbs.

The route south was not only river paths and smooth pavement. Around Suanbo, Andong and the inland mountain sections, the group began to work harder. Some climbs arrived early in the day. Others came after riders had already settled into the idea that the route might be gentle. The historic Mungyeongsaejae pass offered one of those moments where the ride became more than a transfer between towns. It was a reminder that this peninsula has always been crossed by people moving between regions, capitals, markets and homes.

Not everyone climbed at the same speed. Not everyone rode every kilometre. That is part of the nature of a TDA tour. One rider summed it up well after a tough day toward Busan, “Everyone does this at their own speed and comfort level. Nobody is keeping score.”

That attitude shaped the Korean section. Some riders chased the climbs. Some stopped often for photos. Some took time to notice trees, temples, graves, bus stops, cats, snacks, or the small details that are easy to miss when the group is moving quickly.

Food became another way into the country.

Korean dining can feel generous before you even know what you have ordered. Tables fill with small dishes: kimchi, pickled vegetables, soups, rice, sauces, greens, seafood, noodles, grilled meat. There were Korean barbecue nights, with marbled beef cooked at the centre of the table. There was pheasant in Suanbo, served in more ways than most riders had ever imagined. In Andong, some riders found their way to jjimdak, the braised chicken dish the city is known for.

Breakfast also became part of the experience. Rice, broth, vegetables, seaweed, pickled radish, fish cake and gimbap-style spreads appeared in the morning, sometimes long before Western appetites had fully adjusted. For some riders, it was a welcome change. For others, it took a few days of negotiation with the stomach.

Then the route turned toward the coast and arrived in Yeongdeok, where the crab theme announced itself before dinner did. Crab signs, crab sculptures and crab-shaped details began appearing around town. By the time the group reached the harbour, there was no doubt about the local specialty.

Dinner that night became one of the memorable meals of the section: a long seafood spread with crab at the centre, joined by sashimi, shrimp and other dishes that kept arriving until the table ran out of space. It was the kind of meal that makes people linger longer than planned.

As Britton wrote after that evening, “This is one of the reasons we travel, to eat what this place actually eats, to sit at a table and be surprised by what arrives.”

Those surprises were not only on the plate.

Korea kept offering small, specific details: apple-shaped bus stops in apple country, crab-themed bus stops near the coast, outdoor exercise stations filled with older residents, men gathered over board games beside the river, spotless public toilets in unlikely places, and convenience stores stocked with enough drinks and snacks to rescue almost any tired cyclist.

One rider described the Korean bike trails as being “woven into the cities,” paths that could feel like nature even when urban life was nearby. That may be one of the best descriptions of the section. Korea rarely made riders choose between city and landscape. The two kept appearing together.

The final approach into Busan brought the section to a fitting close. After the last hills, the route dropped toward sea level and followed the river into the city. The path lifted at times above the water, with fishermen below and thickening trees around the edges. Then the scale changed. Bridges, port cranes, container ships, glass towers and traffic all appeared, and the group entered one of Asia’s great harbour cities.

It was a big ending, but not a loud one. The bikes were loaded, riders folded into vehicles, and the Korean section suddenly became something behind us rather than ahead.

The next chapter would be Japan. But South Korea left its own clear mark: in the river paths, the climbs, the shared meals, the crab shells, the barbecue smoke, the quiet memorials, and the feeling that this country had given the group much more than a passage from Seoul to Busan.

For riders, the question now is not only what Japan will bring.

It is also what parts of Korea will stay with them once the wheels start turning again.

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Our newest cycling expedition, Africa: Ocean to Ocean, takes riders through seven fascinating Southern African countries. In this post, we take a look at what cyclists can expect on their journey through country number 1,  Angola.

Luanda

The tour begins in Luanda, Angola’s bustling capital city of over 10 million people. Before the ride begins, the cyclists can wander along the waterfront promenade (Marginal  de Luanda) or climb up to the Fortress of São Miguel (built in 1576) for wonderful views over the city. The city also has a unique cuisine, a mash-up of African, Portuguese and Brazilian influences and a number or vibrant markets like the Mercado do Kinaxixi to explore.

Parque Nacional do Quicama

South of Luanda, the route will take the riders through the vast Parque Nacional do Quicama, home to over 200 bird species including white-fronted wattle-eyes, olive bee-eaters, red-crusted turacos and the rare pale olive greenbul. The cyclists can keep an eye out for these ornithological wonders while they spin through a wonderful baobab forest on their way to the Atlantic coast.

Caboledo

The country’s coastline is spectacular and the riders will enjoy the dunes and stunning cliffs at Caboledo. If they have time, they can enjoy a chance to experience some of the planet’s best surfing here as the waves at this beach roll perpendicular to the shore, creating a unique surfing experience. There is also the chance to get a glimpse the local dolphins and turtles that make the area home.

Lobito (Rest Day)

The cyclists will enjoy a rest day in Lobito. This important port city is known for its gorgeous Portuguese colonial architecture and local crafts like wood carving, pottery and woven baskets. Riders should be sure to check out the Lobito Railway  Station (a wonderful example of Portuguese industrial architecture), the Art Deco inspired post office, casino and Império cinema, and the wonderful views at the Fortaleza do Lobito.

Serra da Leba Pass

Riders will face a challenging, but ultimately rewarding day, as they climb over 1000m up the spectacular hairpin turns of the Serra da Leba pass. Completed in 1970, it is one on the continent’s most beautiful roads and the panoramic views from the top back over the escarpment are well worth the effort.

Lubango (Rest Day)

Lubango is the capital of the country’s Huila province and is situated 1700m above sea level, the highest city in Angola. The streets are lined with jacaranda and eucalyptus trees and the elevation means cool nights, a relief from the intense heat in the lowlands. Highlights include the Statue of Christ (Momumento Cristo Rei). Based of Rio’s famous Corcovado, the statue is located 300m above the city and features wonderful view of surrounding Chela Mountains.

The Tunda-Vala Volcanic Fissures (Fendas de Tunda-Vala), is a stunning 1000m deep vertical gorge in Chela Mountains and is just 17 km from Lubango. It offers beautiful views over the countryside, a wide variety of hiking trails and gorgeous sunsets.

Recommended reading:

Jose Eduardo Agualusa – A General Theory of Oblivion and The Book of Chameleons
Ryszard Kapuściński – Another Day of Life
Pepetela – The Return of the Water Spirit
Daniel Metcalfe – Blue Dahlia, Black Gold
Paul Theroux – The Last Train to Zona Verde

Recommended viewing:

Sambizanga (1972): A landmark film focusing on the MPLA anti-colonial movement at the start of the Angolan War of Independence.
Nzinga, Queen of Angola (2013): A historical drama about the 17th-century warrior queen who fought against Portuguese colonizers.
The Hero (O Herói) (2004): Examines the struggles of post-war life in Luanda.

Recommended listening:

The Cold War Legacy: Angola (BBC)
Blowback (Spotify)
In The Shadow Of The Railway (BBC)
Kuduro – Electronic Music From Angola (Counterflows)

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Africa: Ocean to Ocean

The original way to cross Africa from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean was the maritime Cape Route past the continent’s southern tip, a perilous...

“Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes.”
– Henry David Thoreau

Having started TDA Global Cycling almost a quarter of a century ago, I periodically get heartwarming emails from past and present participants from our bicycle expeditions. One such email came a couple of weeks ago. “Today, May 11, 2026, marks exactly 13 years since our arrival of the 2013 edition of the Tour d’Afrique in Cape Town.” Alexandre Nascinamento goes on to say that, “The truth is that such a remarkable experience did not end for me when I crossed the finish line!” Alex went on to write a book about the tour  – Mais que um Leão por Diam – and then “followed an academic path with bicycles and Africa as my fields of study, eventually getting a PhD.”

It is not only these emails that are touching. On each tour that I have ridden in the last few years, there are always some participants who come up  to me with a simple message – these tours changed our lives. ‘We have gone to places we would have never seen, we have experienced things we have never dreamed of, we have been challenged and have done things we never imagined we could do, we have met wonderful people from all around the world, we have made life-long friends.’

Friendships are a very dear thing. Having friends is linked to happiness and life satisfaction. They are important when we are young and they become even more important as we age. When we are just starting out we make friends easily, in school, university and through our jobs. But as we age, we lose friends for many reasons and our lives get lonelier – it just the way it is. Sad, but true. For most of us, it becomes very difficult to make new, good friends.

To me, one of the most unexpected things that has resulted from our company’s cycling adventures is the wonderful community of people that has been created. Not just amongst our riders but also including our incredible staff members. On our tours – the longer they are, the more the impact – everyone experiences the same things, they get closer to others, they become friends. After the tours are over, people stay in touch. They go visit each other, they even plan their own cycling tours. They share a common interest, they exchange stories, tell each other about their lives, the good and the not so good, and as a result, their lives are much richer.

In an essay in the Hedgehog Review – A (Partial) Defence of Travel Writing – the writer Claire Coffey notes that “Travel brings you into contact with other minds, other worlds, not only across space and culture, but across time.” When you travel by bicycle with people from different continents and countries, young and old, as happens during our tours, and add to that the aspect of physical and mental challenge, the results are much more intense. When you undertake a cycling adventure that is longer than a month, the rewards are far beyond just an enjoyable cycling trip. This is what our TDA community is all about.

When people say they’ve ‘seen Europe’, they usually mean they’ve visited a handful of cities: Paris, Prague, Budapest of course. And fair enough – they’re beautiful. But there’s another version of Europe that exists in between those places. You don’t really notice it from a train window and you definitely don’t experience it from 30,000 feet. But on a bike? Oh, you can’t avoid it, you actually ride straight through it.

Claude Monet, Stacks of Wheat (End of Summer), 1891. The Art Institute of Chicago (public domain)

For me, it’s like the Haystacks series by Claude Monet. At first glance, they could look the same, but stay with them a little longer, and light shifts, colours soften or deepen, and the mood changes completely. Riding the Plum Ride feels a bit like that. Even if you’ve travelled widely – the kind of person who doesn’t get easily impressed – this route still has a couple of aces up in its sleeve for you. But not with big names, rather with the moments you didn’t see coming.

Kokorinsko

The opening days along the Baltic – but not the version you’d book a hotel for. The roads shift in texture, the coastline appears and disappears, and the rhythm of the ride settles in before you’ve really thought about it. A quiet ride into Kokořínsko, a protected landscape north of Prague, where sandstone formations – some shaped like natural “mushrooms” – appear between thick forests, and the road slips through valleys known as “Mácha’s country”, named after a romantic poet who found inspiration in these forests.

Banská Štiavnica

A town like Banská Štiavnica, a UNESCO-listed former silver mining town built into the hills, where uneven streets wind through a well-preserved centre, and the surrounding slopes – marked by terraces and a hillside Calvary – quietly reflect its past. There’s a stretch where, in just two days, you ride through three countries – Hungary, a brief crossing of Croatia, and into Serbia – along the flat river plains shaped by the Danube and Drava, where farmland, wetlands, and open horizon dominate the view. The road runs straight for miles, the sky feels bigger than expected, and the borders themselves register only as a sign at the side of the road.

Cycling from Niš to Vranje, the route follows quieter roads along the South Morava valley for over 120 km, gradually shifting from open farmland into a more rugged landscape, where the road tightens and the terrain begins to take over. It’s a stretch often linked to the EuroVelo 11 corridor, but it doesn’t feel marked or curated – more like moving through a part of Serbia where history sits close to the surface.

Niš

Niš, once a crossroads of empires and the birthplace of Constantine the Great, carries that weight quietly, while further south, the atmosphere begins to change – Ottoman influence showing through in architecture, in pace, in small details you notice without trying. By the time you reach Vranje, the shift feels complete – a place shaped by a different rhythm, where stories linger a little longer than expected.

Lake Ohrid

Cycling from Mavrovo to Debar, the route runs for about 50 km through the largest national park in North Macedonia, where forested slopes give way to the Radika River gorge, and the road follows emerald water between steep canyon walls. Ohrid – a pearl of the route, where an ancient lake meets a UNESCO-listed old town, recently named the ‘prettiest place in Europe’ in 2026 – the kind of place that might remind you of somewhere like Lake Como, just without the same sense of being already fully claimed.

Thessaloniki

And finally, Thessaloniki – where Greece looks a little different than expected, less polished, more layered, and where the arrival feels less like a moment, and more like the natural conclusion of everything that came before. Europe isn’t just the places you recognize. It’s everything in between – the parts you don’t plan for, and only really see when you move through them on a bike.

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Masoud Riyazati was the Content Creator on the 2026 Tour d’Afrique Cycling Expedition.

In Nostalghia, a movie by Tarkovsky, a man walks across an empty pool holding a candle, and his task is to walk across the pool without the flame going out. He tries once. The flame goes out. He returns to the beginning and tries again, and this repeats over and over. The task is simple. But it demands everything. This scene is a cinematic version of life on a long-distance cycling tour.

You start riding. Then something goes wrong. You get a flat tire. You fix it and you continue. Your bike breaks. You fix it and continue. You run out of water. You fill the bottles and continue. You wake up the next day and everything repeats.

Over and over. Again and again. Nothing changes. And yet, everything does.

_________________________________________

About three months ago, a group of strangers met for the first time with one goal: to cross Africa on their iron horse. In Khoekhoegowab, a click language spoken in Namibia, the bicycle is called ‘iron horse.’ A simple name. But it felt like the right name for what carried us all the way from Egypt to South Africa.

The 7,170-kilometre journey started in Egypt, then moved through Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Namibia, and South Africa. Each country had its own character.

Egypt with its pyramids and endless yellow deserts.
Kenya and the Maasai lands.
Tanzania and Malawi, with their busy roads and children who run beside you, asking questions.
The rusty bicycles that carry a family.
Zambia and Zimbabwe, with their lush, green landscapes, climbs, and challenging roads.
Botswana, with elephants casually walking on the road or standing by the roadside.
Namibia — Oh Namibia! An otherworldly, timeless place that feels like a different planet.
And South Africa, a vibrant country with a complex and controversial history.

Just like the countries, each person had their own character. We had people in their 30s and their 70s. Twenty-seven-year-old Ana and seventy-four-year-old Clyde. Fiona, with no experience in long-distance cycling. Adam, on a personal quest to take a new direction in life. Ralf, a retired engineer who was sometimes even faster than our trucks to reach the next campsite. His pace, from start to finish, was steady. And Fred, an enthusiastic doctor who joined us in Victoria Falls, was soon loved by everyone.

They all had the same map, the same route, but different reasons to be here.
And Africa, in its own way, gives something different to each of them.

_________________________________________

We had storms that followed us wherever we went. Rain that stayed. Days when our tents filled with water and sand, poles bending under the wind.

In Botswana, the night before the 217 km ride, my tent flooded, and there was nothing I could do. I lay in my tent, soaked, listening to the constant rhythm of water, hoping it would stop. It didn’t. It carried on through the night. By morning, it was a shared experience. The campsite had turned into mud and scattered gear. You look around and see sleepless faces that still have to ride 217 kilometres.

And then Namibia. The biggest surprise for all of us. You expect the desert to be dry. It wasn’t. We were wrong. The storms kept coming. Some days, they never really left. Not to mention, we saw a river running beside the desert dunes.

_________________________________________

Riding through shifting sand, corrugation, gravel, tarmac, rocks, and even riverbeds, across rugged plains, teaches you that survival is not just physical. It is about mental strength and finding joy in small, sometimes uncomfortable moments. Trusting that, in its own way, the road will provide.

Like the day we were heading to Canyon Farmyard. The dam overflowed, and the road turned into a river. No way back, no way forward, but the road led us to a gin distillery, where the owner let us stay for the night. That unexpected change became one of the best experiences for all of us. Warm shelter, gins made with local flavours, and a quiet happiness on everyone’s faces.

_________________________________________

These moments along the journey make the ride less about distance and more about the stories each person carries with them. You begin to hear them. Not all at once, not in big moments, but slowly, over days.

People talk about their lives. About things they left behind. About things they are still trying to understand. And sometimes, they speak about people who are not here. Someone they wish they could share a moment with. A memory that returns unexpectedly in the middle of nowhere.

One day, Fred and I sat together and talked. As we shared parts of our personal stories, he told me he misses someone. Someone very special to him. He wished she were here, to see what he sees every day.

At some point, he showed me a message he had written to her. With his permission, I share it:

_________________________________________

Quote: “Many years ago, I gave you a book called On the Loose at a coffee shop across the street from the Children’s Hospital. This old Sierra Club book is about sharing wilderness experiences together. I believe you too would have loved the torrential rain, lightning, and streams of water that overcame the campsite. All of my gear was soaked. I managed to find a chair in a tool shed, where I was fully committed to sleeping, before the crew found me and brought a tarp, mattress, and sleeping blanket into the shed. The shed’s roof was leaky, but that didn’t matter, because the raindrops were caught in a bucket. Oh, how I wish you and I had experienced the storm together. I believe you too would have loved the evening and sharing the experience.”

I believe some of us have similar messages written to someone special, but never sent.

_________________________________________

Finally, there it is. The last day. One last early alarm.
Packing up your wet tent.
Checking the tires.
Filling your water bottles.
Getting on the bike with a tired body.
Looking at the sky.

Looking for Coke stops.
For the lunch truck.
For the hot soup waiting at the end of the day.

Bucket showers.
The small rituals that quietly held everything together.

A long journey where each day opened a new, unfamiliar world.

_________________________________________

As we approached the final city, Cape Town, a mix of emotions took hold. Relief, a quiet sense of happiness, sadness, accomplishment, and a question about how tomorrow will look when this is all over.

Our stories continue, but we carry something from each other.
And maybe that is what remains.

In the words of Nelson Mandela: “What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead.”

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Africa holds such a special place in our hearts. It was there, after all, that Founder Henry Gold’s crazy idea of cycling from Cairo to Cape Town came to life. Over the years, we have returned to the continent with tours like Magical Madagascar, Morocco: Kingdom of the West & West Africa en Vélo but we always dreamed of doing another epic cross-continental adventure, not from north to south but instead, from west to east. Well, the time has finally arrived!

We are more than just a little excited to announce the Africa: Ocean to Ocean Cycling Expedition, a 2 month, 5040 km journey across 7 African countries – Angola, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Eswatini & Mozambique. In June 2027, riders will dip their tires in the chilly waters of the Atlantic Ocean before heading out across the African continent. Two months later they will pull into Maputo, Mozambique and repeat the process in the warm, blue waters of the Indian Ocean – marking the end of their incredible adventure.

>>Related: Click here for dates, prices and full details

TDA’s African Project Manager, Sharita van der Merwe, describes the route and highlights in this video.

The route will allow riders to visit a number of famous National Parks like Namibia’s, Etosha, and South Africa’s, Kruger, while also allowing them to discover lesser known gems including Angola’s stunning Serra da Leba Pass and Eswatini’s Sibebe Rock. They will pedal the challenging roads of the ancient Namib Desert, spin alongside Botswana’s shimmering salt pans, past the stunning rock formations of Zimbabwe’s Matobo National Park and into South Africa’s unique Blyde River Canyon. Along the way, the riders will experience the warm hospitality and rich cultures of the African people.

Don’t miss out on the opportunity to join us on this amazing inaugural Ocean to Ocean tour!

Registration for the 2027 Africa: Ocean to Ocean Cycling Expedition is now open.

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Rihab Gouaied is the Content Creator on the 2026 Morocco: Kingdom of the West Cycling Adventure.

We rolled into Merzouga with the sand whispering through our chains and a dry heat on our shoulders, as a small camel caravan crossed – soft pads near-silent, heads nodding, shadows sliding over our wheels.

It feels a world away from the sea air that pushed us out of Casablanca. Fourteen riders, one route – yet cycling in Morocco keeps remaking itself under our wheels. The country changes at the table and in the street, on the horizon and in the weather. Here’s how we see it now, halfway in.

Along the Atlantic

The beginning was windy – Atlantic gusts lifting flags and moods as we left Casablanca. Near Tangier, we stood where the ocean hands off to the Mediterranean, watching the water turn from wavy and rough to steady and blue. Camels moved along the shore beside the blue water – the desert meeting the sea in one frame, a first glimpse of Morocco’s diversity.

Then Tangier turned us inland and the road pitched up. The pace and traffic of the cities thinned into Rif villages where offers of water arrived before we’d even unclip. We watched bread slide into clay ovens, a single round big enough to feed ten people. Women sold it on the street and worked tending sheep, farming and carrying goods on donkeys. Their strength is visible in the daily load they carry and the way whole communities lean on them.

Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen’s blues felt like a cool breath between climbs. Terraces sewn with olives pulled us skyward; pine and oak gave short spells of shade. The days are long – sunset near eight p.m. – and the heat builds early.

Paul: “I was walking in the medina of Chefchaouen and I met a gentleman called Mohamed. We spent two hours walking up the hill together. He’s from Chefchaouen and shared stories about the area. It was a nice, spontaneous way to see the town with a local.”

Dag on the road

“Chefchaouen to Wahda Dam was a very tough day,” Dag said, “96 km, 2036m of climbing in 34 degrees during a heat wave.” We wild camped by the dam – the fourth biggest in Africa – and watched the sky fade.

From Wahda to Fes, the beauty didn’t let up. After the blessed rains, spring burst open: terraces quilted with wildflowers – poppies, daisies and tiny blues – fields laid out like a bright carpet. Bees worked every verge; I got stung, sad for a moment but happy that I got to see such a green spring.

Birgit meets a camel

Donkeys still do a lot of the work here and the road rolls without much rest. “This place is all but flat,” Dag laughed, “but the views make it worth it.” In Fes we took it easy – some to hammams and massages – because tomorrow promised another 1900m of climbing. Inside the medina: tanners in honeycomb pits, copper ringing through alleyways, calls to prayer stitching morning to night. Birgit said the first days were tough – some excited kids threw stones and tried to stop her bike – but the further inland we rode, the quieter it became. Big climbs, yes, but rides to savour. She was here twenty‑five years ago and noticed how modern the big cities feel now.

South again, and the worlds kept changing. Azrou to Aït Oufella brought holm oak with cedar; above 2000m we touched the High Atlas, snow still visible, a nomadic summer camp on a high meadow. Cold settled at dawn, steam rose from coffee. On plateaus the wind pressed our shoulders; we tucked in and rode as a peloton. Some riders are camping for the first time – first tents, first bush camps, trying new things and finding out how much you can carry – and leave behind. Rest days in hotels feel rich after two or three nights under canvas.

Riffian woman in her traditional outfit

Then the Ziz valley opened like a green ribbon. From the Gorges du Ziz to Merzouga, a tailwind finally helped. “160km through the Sahara,” Dag said, shaking his head, “mind‑blowing to experience the desert on two wheels with only leg power.” In Amazigh and Tuareg areas, the clothing changed: men in indigo‑dyed robes and headscarves, women in black with colourful embroidery.

With time, our group is understanding each other. Some ride in a peloton and find that sharing makes the ride mean more; others prefer a solo rhythm. Around the soup pot at camp we trade stories – the day’s climbs, the best coffee shop – and laugh until we are called to the rider meeting. Camping connects us; hotels reset us. “Every three days it’s different,” Dag shrugged. “You never get bored. Now it’s three days in desert—I think it’s enough.” Birgit looked at the dunes: “Morocco is beautiful, but this is my favourite landscape. It reminds me of my road trip in the southern desert of the USA.”

Cyclist with a Touareg man

By the time the sand rose, our idea of Morocco had shifted. The coast felt outward‑looking; the Rif felt vertical – green and in bloom; Fes layered craft and time; the Sahara pared it down. Tastes changed with the map – tagines and salads changed from place to place. Preferences split too: some live for green climbs, some for tailwinds across a flat road with only the horizon for company. We didn’t come for a single Morocco, and we haven’t found one. We’ve found many – stitched together by tea glasses, roadside smiles and the thin line of tar that keeps disappearing under our tyres.

On the next stretch we aim for Aït Ben Haddou, Marrakech and Essaouira. We’re curious about more surprising discoveries in Morocco, and about what we can do. For now, the dunes are a pause – a chance to rinse sand from the cassettes, to enjoy a glass of tea, to watch camels pass, and to note the lesson so far: distance is only one measure. Elevation, wind and welcome redraw a day, and how you see a place depends on how you move through it.

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A few weeks ago, we sent our veteran Tour Leaders Carolina and Gergo to scout the route of our new Plum Ride Cycling Tour through Central Europe, scheduled for August, 2027. When they returned from their trip, we sat down with them to ask a few questions about the route. 

Tell me the basics of the scout.. when did you start, what was the strategy, where did you go and how long did it take?

At the start

Carolina: “I met Gergo in Budapest on March 15th. We drove to Gdańsk, Poland, scouting a few new stages stages of the Amber Route along the way. Gdańsk is a fascinating port city at the Baltic Sea, the colourful facades of the Long Market are a real highlight with old buildings hosting trendy cafes, stores and restaurants full of tourists – riders that arrive earlier will find lots of places to visit. From there, we began a three-week drive toward Thessaloniki, Greece. Using the route designed by the office in RWGPS, our job was to verify the plan. Gergo drove and took RWGPS notes while I assisted with navigation and compiled the overall notes for the Tour Manual. We covered two to three stages per day, depending on whether the route was already perfect or required more exploration to find the best options.”

Gergo:  “This type of scouting mission is not new to me. In 2010, we completed the scouting for the original Amber Route with Henry. Then the Venice-Lisbon stretch with Cristiano, and so on. This time our team with Carolina started on the 16th March and I returned Hungary on the 7th April. The strategy was that we create a route between the suggested stopover locations, trying to include as many interesting places, quiet roads, and popular bicycling routes as we can.“

What were some of the highlights for you that you think the cyclists will also enjoy?

Carolina: “Plum spirits: the route moves south through territories where plum distillates change identity and style – Slivovitz, then Pálinka, then Rakia. Riders can try local brands and in Serbia it is possible to visit local distilleries. Historical depth: Riders pass through places marked by royal wealth, mining history, fortresses, castles and major turning points in European history – such as Cold War memory sites, and old imperial centres. It rides through places where European history is physically visible: Banská Štiavnica is described by UNESCO as Slovakia’s oldest mining town and later a major centre of mining education and engineering; Vukovar in Croatia, where war ruins of the battles of the 1991 are still visible on the buildings; and the White Tower in Thessaloniki that represents the city’s history from its foundation in 316/15 BC to the present.

North Macedonia

Landscape variety: The route changes constantly, starting in the north with the Baltic Sea, passes through the Spreewald – a UNESCO biosphere reserve – then moves into the Czech and Slovak river plains, the Danube cities – such as Budapest and Belgrade, with its incredible architecture, the gorgeous Balkan mountain landscapes, Lake Ohrid – the oldest lake in Europe, and finally the descent toward Thessaloniki on the coast of the Aegean Sea, crossing cherry fields.

Gergo: “Starting with Gdansk, which is a gem, an unexpectedly beautiful Hanseatic city. If the schedule allows me to do so I will definitely try to add a few days to spend there before the tour. Then Berlin, Prague, or the little known Kutna Hora or Litomysl. Budapest is a highlight of course, then Belgrade and Skopje bring a different vibe to the picture.”

What is something about our route that might surprise people?

Carolina: “The route challenges the old idea of a singular, ‘Eastern Europe’. The route moves through a region where old agrarian landscapes, socialist-era legacies, industrial strength, and fast-changing cities all exist side by side. So what riders see on the ground is not a static post-socialist landscape, but a region where villages, old industry, new factories, logistics corridors, and rapidly changing cities coexist. What also surprises people is how many different Europes fit into one ride: Baltic coast, German lowlands, Bohemian towns, Danube capitals, Balkan plains, mountain regions, and finally Thessaloniki. So the route feels big and exotic, but also surprisingly structured and rideable.”

Gergo: “The magnificent nature between the big cities, especially the forests between Czechia and Slovakia. The mountains in North Macedonia are definite highlights too.”

What are the roads like? All paved? Smooth or bumpy?

On the road in the Balkans

Carolina: “Simple 2 lane roads, mostly well paved but with some bumpy or broken secondary-road sections and short unpaved stretches from Czechia down south.”

Gergo: “Mostly paved, but occasionally broken and bumpy here or there, even a few stretches on gravel. Mostly smooth pavement.”

What is the traffic like and is there many places with separated bike paths or city bike lanes?

Carolina: “This varies a lot by region. In the north and in parts of the Danube corridor, riders should encounter more developed cycling infrastructure. Poland is part of EuroVelo 10/13, and has an extensive cycle-path network. In the Hungary/Slovakia section of EuroVelo 6, the route was on segregated or traffic-free infrastructure. Further south, riders should expect more normal road riding and less separation from traffic. Serbia and North Macedonia are mostly on local and regional roads. Some bike paths and city lanes, yes, but most of the trip is still classic road touring. Traffic is mostly low, but in some stages riders will be sharing the road with trucks and local traffic, but never for too long in any one day.”

Gergo: “This varies country by country, or by region. Good infrastructure around cities, and somewhat more challenging as we go south.”

What type of people might enjoy this cycling tour?

Carolina: “It suits people who enjoy history, changing cultures, food and drink traditions, and the feeling of crossing whole regions rather than just doing a scenic loop.“

Gergo: “People who like to ride their bicycles for multiple days in nice places. All riders? Yes, probably all.”

What type of bike would be best for this tour?

Carolina: “The safest recommendation is an all-road or light gravel bike with fast tires in the 35–40 mm range. I would avoid a very aggressive race bike with narrow tires, because the route is too long and too mixed for that to be the smartest choice.”

Gergo: “I would bring a light touring bike or a gravel bike for this tour. 40 mm touring tires are the sweet spot between good rolling properties and reliability. I suggest SPD/flat pedals and shoes with “walkable” rubber soles.”

Did you try some plum brandy or slivovitz along the way?

Carolina: “I sipped Rakia in North Macedonia. I’m not really into brandy hahah sorry, I can’t be helpful here 🙂“

Gergo: “Haha, no… we haven’t, we were too busy scouting! Oh, wait! Once in North Macedonia on a cold evening the waiter brought us Rakia – without asking. (FYI: In Macedonia they make rakija from yellow and white grapes, then – to get their own distinctive flavour – they add a blend of honey, anise and other fruits).”

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Veteran Field Staffer Doug Percival reflects on his time with TDA Global Cycling & his love for Africa’s wild spaces.

My journey with TDA began in the January of 2012.
I was hired as the bike mechanic, and flown out to Cairo to join a group of 11 other staff, and about 40 riders.

Before the 2012 Tour d’Afrique

That year was “lucky”, the Countries between Egypt and South Africa were all behaving nicely at that time, and we had a “clear run” to do the Full 12000km tour.

Having been born in South Africa, and already a very avid backpacker, the Reality and
Dream of being able to cross ‘My Continent’, came true.

Those 120 days on tour, without a doubt, changed my life.
At the time, and the months and years afterwards, i did not fully grasp the enormity of it.
For me it felt like normality, travelling and riding my bike, mixed with some long hours of
work and an incredibly social atmosphere, life on the road could have carried on way
longer than it did.

That trip set me up, for many more tours, and from it, it became my career.
Being on bicycle tours is all i have done now for 14 years.
Now that might seem odd for some, and a crazy thought for others, but for me it
became the normal.

In the latter part of the TDA tour, we crossed Botswana and Namibia, two vastly
different countries, which share a huge border, but still remain largely fence free.
Those two countries stood out for me, more than others, because of the open spaces.
Hundreds, if not thousands of kilometres of Open Space, filled with wild animals, very
few humans, and time had not changed them much.

I remember hearing lions roaring at night, seeing the herds of elephants pass right
before my eyes on the roads, crossing savannah land and desert, and finishing my days
duties with nothing but a headlamp and the billions of stars in the night sky each night. It
lived in my mind for years, it still lives in my mind.

2 years later after that experience, i met Frida ( and then somehow convinced her to
marry me!)

I of course mentioned this experience to her hundreds of times… over and over again.
She wanted to go, and i told her that One Day i will take her.

Fast forward a decade, and in March this year, we were able to make a trip to where
those memories began.

We hired a small 4×4, packed a small bag each, and drove out of the Johannesburg car
rental with not a single day planned.
The deal was, no phone service, no satellite phone, just paper maps and some pre-
loaded apps with some basic information on potential campsites in the north.

We left South Africa on day one, and straight into Botswana we drove.

From there, the deep wilderness began.
Wild camping, evening camp fires, no music, no podcasts, no social media.
It was a huge shift from our Normal day to day Life.

We went deep into Botswana, straight to the Kalahari Central Reserve.
The reserve is 53000 square kilometres, to put that into perspective, thats is bigger than
all of Switzerland or Costa Rica.
It is mind bending Big.
And there is Nothing.

Roads are jeep tracks, campsites are just flattened grass patches, no loo’s, no showers,
no nothing. Except wild animals that WILL eat you.
In the 3 days it took to traverse across the Park, we saw 4 other vehicles.
Open space, and being alone, makes you feel Alive!
The magical sun sets on the savannah, and night fall descends.
Real Africa comes out at night.
Once again, i got to relive the sounds of lion roaring at night, elephants walking past our
tent, owls hooting, hyena cackling, it puts your senses into Hyper alert.
There is no ‘just being casual and lazy’ around camp, because out there is the real deal.

We drove further north, dipped in to Victoria Falls that sits comfy between Zambia and
Zimbabwe.
The Falls in full flood, record rainfall really brought its nickname
“The Smoke that Thunders” to reality for us.

Heading Westward, we followed the thin land piece known as the Caprivi strip, a unique
and very interesting section of Namibia, that lies to the south of Angola. ( A fascinating
history of deception the British pulled on the Germans!)

Some of the wildest bit of land you can find.
Wild animals roam freely.
Humans exist in small rural villages, still living in straw and mud huts, like they have for
thousands of years.
Its like time has stood still up there.

We were alone, we hardly saw another vehicle most days.

Namibia was green, the heavy season rainfall had made a mess of the land.
Flooded roads, flooded savannah…
a green desert.

We pushed forward, taking decisions together, relying on each other to make the best
choices in some very serious situations..getting stuck was not an option, help was days
away..if we were lucky.
That made us feel Alive.

We reached the real desert in central Namibia, only to find the flooding had touched
there too.
The famous Sossusvlei dunes were unreachable, a flowing river in the World’s oldest
desert!

A dash to the mining Ghost town of Kolmanskop on the west coast, and back towards
South Africa, via the Kalahari to our East.

We covered 8350km in 28 days.
It was Huge.

At the end of each days drive, we set up camp, made a simple dinner on the gas
cooker, sipped a cup of tea, and watched one of The Greatest Gifts us humans have
been given…
The Night Sky.
A clear night sky in a land of no people, and no interruptions from ground light, is an
experience that We all should have regularly.
The perfect night sky in the Southern Hemisphere is a marvel to the eyes.
The Milky Way as bright as street lamps.

For the two of us, to have that all to ourselves, is something We will Live with in Our
minds for the rest of our lives.

Africa is like nowhere else.
Time has stood still there.
It requires patience, it requires a thick skin somedays, it requires tolerance, but it also
gives back an experience that is not found anywhere else on this planet.

I have travelled this Globe, to many different corners, and my involvement with TDA for
14 years now, has allowed me to revisit many places, many times.
The World has changed in most places, the West and East influences have blended
many places into being similar…you can argue for the better or for the worse, but the
reality is that change has occurred….but not in parts of Africa.
Africa works, in African ways.

If you Navigate yourself past a few power hungry immigration officials, and attempt
dodging several highly corrupted roadside police, and dont let the local coffee barrister
disappoint your day, then you find yourself in a place of simpler times.
Just you and open space.

What a privilege it was to return to some of the places i had last seen in 2012.
I cant think there is a single person, who would say that doing Tour ‘d Afrique didnt
change their life to some degree, i bet even Henry our Founder, shares the same
feeling. It certainly changed mine.

During this trip, One evening in Botswana, we collided with the TDA crew of 2026..and
enjoyed a tasty cold beer together at a brewery in Maun.
A young lady on the staff asked me:
“you have done so many tours, what is your favourite?”.
– its always the same answer..
Africa.
For a thousand different reasons, but mostly because it changed my life.

Doing the TDA in 2012 was the starter meal, being able to return over a decade later, at
a different age, in a different headspace..was the main meal.
Both unique, both so fulfilling.

Frida got to experience what has been living in my thoughts and memories for as long
as we have known each other, and that was beautiful to share.

I guess the point of this blog, is not just to tell you about my holiday, but more to convey
the experiences i have had from that special part of the World, that so few actually get
to see.
For all its chaos, unpredictability, and moments of discomfort, what it does give you is
Time and Space to think, reflect, dream, declutter, and plan.
-and finding that nowadays is a rarity.

Africa will test you, that is a given.
Every one of you who have done that tour, or a section, will know what i mean!

For any reader who has not been there, i cannot urge you more to dip your toes into
some African Dust…. It will make you feel Alive! Paul Simon wrote the Song “under african skies”
A beautiful song, written for a personal, musical and spiritual connection during a dark
time in South African politics.

My Version of ‘Under African Skies’, is for the Dreamer, who imagines vast lands of
natural beauty, unpredictable days, star riddled night skies, glowing campfires, and
untouched Wilderness.
One of the very last bits of Land, that has not changed.

See you on the road somewhere!

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“May you live in interesting times.”

This English expression (or curse) certainly applies to our current global situation and makes planning long distance cycling tours even more challenging than usual, throwing up obstacles seemingly endlessly. One thing we have learned over 20 years, however,  is that obstacles also provide opportunities.

In late June last year, the Thailand/Cambodia border closed due to an ongoing conflict between the 2 nations. Our popular Bamboo Road Cycling Tour had been happily pedalling across that border ever since 2013 so for the 2026 ride, we obviously needed a Plan B. We could have simply paused the tour in Siem Reap, Cambodia for a few days to make up for the missing part of the route that crossed the border and continued to Bangkok and then flown directly to the Thai capital….but, hey, where’s the fun in that!

Instead, we researched a new plan to take the riders south from Phnom Penh into the southern region of Cambodia, somewhere our tours had not reached previously. They will get to cycle through some of Cambodia’s most beautiful countryside and experience many new highlights before arriving in Siem Reap for their flight to Bangkok. Here is some of what they can look forward to.

Cardamom Mountains

The vast forested region is one of the last remaining true wilderness areas in South East Asia. It features numerous sites of historical interest like jar burials and cave art and is home to some of the country’s indigenous peoples including the Chong who predate Khmer civilization. The mountains also contain a variety of fauna such as the Asian elephant, Indochinese tiger, clouded leopard, wild dog, gaur, Malayan sun bear, pileated gibbon, Sunda pangolin, Tenasserim white-bellied rat, Irrawaddy and humpback dolphins and the very rare Siamese crocodiles.

Wildlife Sanctuaries

Pangolin

The riders will pass through the Peam Krasaop & Phnum Samkos Wildlife Sanctuaries. The Peam Krasaop Sanctuary is just outside the riverside town of Koh Kong  where the riders will spend a night. Its spectacular mangroves protect the coastline and provide a safe spot for marine life to flourish. The Phnum Samkos Sanctuary is a vital area for birds and riders can also keep their eyes out for the rare pangolin.

Bonus tip: In Koh Kong, riders should be sure to visit the Crab Shack on Koh Yor Beach for delicious food and amazing sunset views.

Tatai Waterfalls

On their ride to Koh Kong, the cyclists should be sure to make the short 2km detour off the main road to see these falls. Set along the picturesque Tatai River, these beautiful rapids feature a number of refreshing pools where the riders can cool off after a long, hot day on their bikes.

>>Related Post: More (Battam)bang For Your Buck On The Bamboo Road

Sangkae River Boat Ride

Leaving the atmospheric French colonial architecture of Battambang, the riders will enjoy a relaxing cruise along the Sangkae River on a traditional Cambodian riverboat, taking in the riverside sights as they make their way to Siem Reap and the stunning temples of Angkor Wat.

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Birgit Hermann was a rider on the 2014 Tour d’Afrique Cycling Expedition.

I was about to turn 33, a Schnappszahl, as we call it in German. That’s one of those numbers that comes with a bit of mischief. The kind that makes slightly questionable decisions feel like a good idea.

On paper, my life was already good. Stable job, strong community, a place that felt like home in Aotearoa New Zealand. Nothing was missing. And still, something felt… unfinished. Not in a dramatic way, just a quiet sense that I had settled into something that worked but wasn’t stretching me anymore.

Then one evening, I came across a story about a group of cyclists riding the length of Africa. Twelve thousand kilometres. Heat, dust, long days, basic roadside camps. And something clicked. Instantly, I knew: that’s it. It didn’t feel sensible, but my gut said I want to try this.

Credit: Birgit Hermann

So I signed up for the Tour d’Afrique, despite never having ridden 100 kilometres in one go. Somewhere in that decision was a simple thought: this is slightly ridiculous… but I’m doing it anyway. At the time, I had no idea how few people had actually done this. Looking back, it’s a surprisingly small group, fewer than those who have summited Everest. In hindsight, that might have been useful information. Then again… maybe not.

The plan was to start in Cairo and ride south but that’s not how it played out. Due to political unrest in Egypt, the route changed. We started in Khartoum in Sudan instead and headed north first, straight into the wind. These were the winds that usually push riders south, helping them settle into the rhythm of the ride. That year, we met them head-on. It was a rough way to begin without any easing in. No gentle start, just heat, resistance, and the immediate realization that this was going to be harder than expected.

Credit: Birgit Hermann

We rode in a loose peloton, rotating through the front, trying to shield each other. It required precision, timing, and experience—all of which we didn’t have. A small miscalculation was enough. Our handlebars touched. My balance shifted. And I hit the ground. A crash in week one! The pain came immediately.

I got back up quickly, more out of instinct than anything else, but as the day went on, it became clear this wasn’t just a bruise. By evening, even the smallest movements were difficult. I needed help taking off my tight sports bra. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything I had felt before, and left no doubt: something was wrong.

Credit: Birgit Hermann

There were no proper medical facilities nearby. Just a field assessment by the tour medic and a likely diagnosis: broken collarbone.. Which left me with a choice: Stop and get treatment. Or keep riding.

The conditions didn’t make the decision any easier. The heat in Sudan was relentless. At lunch stops, tyres would literally pop from the pressure of sitting in the sun. You’d hear it across camp…another one gone. So instead of us resting in the shade, we dragged our bikes there first. Protect the tyres, protect the rims, protect whatever we could. I had never seen tyres blister before. Out there, in over 40 degrees on long, exposed roads through the Sahara, they did.

Credit: Birgit Hermann

Everything was under pressure. Equipment. Bodies. Focus. And now, my shoulder. That night, lying in my tent, I wasn’t thinking about the distance ahead. I was thinking about whether I was done. There was no drama in it. No big internal speech. Just a quiet question: Is this where it ends? No one expected me to continue. No one would have questioned it if I stopped. But I knew I wasn’t ready to leave. So the next morning, I got back on the bike.

From that point on, the ride changed. Every movement required attention. Every adjustment mattered. I rode differently: more carefully, more consciously, constantly adapting. And mentally, I had to simplify things. Because thinking about the full distance wasn’t useful anymore. Whenever we were down to 42 kilometres, I’d say, sometimes to myself, sometimes to the riders around me: “Hey… that’s a marathon distance. That’s what other people run. Come on, we can easily cycle that.” It became a bit of a ritual. Even when we were completely exhausted, with no shade in sight, and when “easy” was the last word any of us felt.

I also started creating small rewards along the way. One of them was those infamous sports bars we were given. Some South African brand that, in the heat, turned into something closer to a concrete block than anything you’d normally call food. Chewing them mid-ride felt like a challenge in itself, but I’d save them for certain milestones, telling myself I’d earned it once I got there. It didn’t make the kilometres shorter, but it made them feel more manageable.

Somewhere along the way, the focus shifted. I stopped thinking about finishing and started paying attention to what was right in front of me. The next kilometre. The next decision. When to push. When to ease off. When forcing it made things worse instead of better. It wasn’t about riding harder. It was about staying in it.

Crossing the finish line in Cape Town months later was emotional, but it didn’t feel like the dramatic breakthrough I had imagined at the start line in Khartoum. It felt quieter than that. More like something had settled. The biggest shift wasn’t physical. It was in how I approached uncertainty and trusted myself to move forward, even without having everything figured out. What stayed with me was a deep sense that if I set my heart and mind on something, I could achieve far more than I had once believed.

The hesitation that used to hold me back didn’t disappear, but it lost its authority. I had seen what happens when you keep going anyway, and that changes how you show up long after the ride is over. You don’t wait until everything feels aligned or until you feel fully ready. You decide. You take the first step. And then you take the next.

Looking back, I thought I had signed up for a bike ride. What I didn’t realize was that I was stepping into something that would change how I make decisions, how I deal with discomfort, and how I move through moments where things don’t go to plan. Only later did I start to see how much of that carried into other parts of life, and into my work.

Credit: Birgit Hermann

Experiences like this quietly became the foundation for what I would later capture in my leadership framework and book BOLDER. Because the pattern is the same. You don’t wait until everything feels aligned or until you feel fully ready. You decide. You take the first step. And then you take the next. Sometimes, that’s all it is: One decision. Then another. And eventually, without quite noticing when it happened, you’ve gone much further than you thought possible.

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