She's Not Pedalling On The Back

There are some great talks lined up for the Virtual @cycletourbikepackfest this weekend including @followmargopolo and Brad Weir telling the tale of their amazing trip on the Dempster Highway in Canada. There's some bloke called Marcus Mumford on Sunday afternoon too... Just log on and enjoy from the comfort of your own screen with optional donations for each talk. Search Cycle Touring and Bikepacking Festival for more info.

The best laid scheme o mice and men gang aft agley. Earlier this year @wearecyclinguk launched a route called the Gallovidian Gravel that promised 300km of beautiful riding through Dumfries and Galloway on quiet lanes, trails and paths. @justin.mumford and I thought October would be a great month to give it a go. The route was as lovely as we hoped, taking us through forest parks, down to the Solway coast and through historical but sleepy border towns. The weather was just as varied with short sharp showers mixed in with blue skies, sunshine and rainbows. Our bikes were loaded with the usual camping gear but with the addition of packrafts. I'd spied a couple of lochs on the route so the Gallovidian Gravel became the Gallovidian paddle. After climbing up into the rugged Galloway forest we inflated the boats and took to the waters of Loch Trool. Mirror calm and bathed in sunlight, it couldn't have been better. That day ended at the White Laggan Bothy for food, cider and cards. But Burn's warning came to haunt us on the penultimate day when drizzle became persistent rain. Cold wet and tired, we skipped the last, planned paddle on Loch Ken. A shorter run into Dumfries was needed to keep all members of the group in good health. It didn't matter. We'd enjoyed some fine riding, a memorable paddle and had a long overdue brotherly catch up. Exactly what we wanted from the journey. #gallovidiangravel #packrafting #cycletouring #whitelagganbothy #robbieburns

Vätternrunden is the biggest cycling event you've probably never heard of. 17,000 cyclists gather each year to ride round lake Vättern which is impressive given the full lap is 315km. Thanks to rave reviews from @uliharder who did it in 2000 it's been on our to do list for years so we thought it was high time we have it a go. Our start time was 9:36pm so we rode into the very short night. Mixing with huge pelotons is always fun on a tandem. When they weren't catching a tow on our back wheel, the solo riders scampered past on the climbs but were left far behind when gravity was on our side. Feed stations were undeniably Swedish with blueberry soup. Pickled gherkins and a DJ playing terrible euro pop. The highlight was in Jönkoping where meat balls and ryvita were served from the middle of an ice rink. On and on we rode past endless trees. Huge red barns dotted the fields and the enormous lake sat always to our right. Sleepy at times, sore at others our difficulties were always shared with each other but so were the highlights. There are some beautiful stretches of road on the route. Finally we dropped off the last climb and down into Motala. I reached behind me to clasp Kirsty's hand as we crossed the finish line. A medal was hung on each of our necks and we could finally stop pedalling. Bra jobbart as they say up here. Good job. #vätternrundan #shesnotpedallingontheback #dawessupergalaxytwin

You have to love Sweden: free camping, free swimming and three million midges. #roadtrip #smidgenet #homeiswherethehillebergis #vätternrundan #shesnotpedallingontheback

#boattrip #öresundbrücke #vätternrundan #shesnotpedallingontheback #dawessupergalaxytwin

#roadtrip #vätternrundan #shesnotpedallingontheback #dawessupergalaxytwin

How to Escape from Algecieras  Plan A: Train to north of Seville. Problem: The train line is closed for works❎ Plan B: Bus to north of Seville.  Problem: Can't take 4 bikes on the bus❎ Plan C: Ride to Seville Problem: doesn't leave enough time to ride the bits we want to❎ Plan D: Hire a van and drive to Salamanca then ride from there.✅ It's a strange feeling being in a vehicle after a few weeks on the bikes. Our motorway follows the route of an old Roman Road and runs alongside a railway, a pilgrims path to Santiago and Eurovelo 1. Lots of history and beautiful scenery speed past the windscreen. At Salamanca we now have 6 days to ride to Santander and hastily create a route that allows a reasonable daily milage. The scenery slows down to a more familiar pace as our pedals start turning again.  Most of this feels very different to Morocco. The roads are long, straight, flat and quiet. There seems to be nobody here. Passing through sleepy villages, the only signs of life are the whisps of cigar smoke and sound of chatter emanating from the bar. Tagines and mint tea have been replaced by tortilla, chorizo and cafe con leche.   But the arid colour palette is similar and the low rise, slightly crumbling clusters of houses could be a smarter Moroccan village scene if it wasn't for the huge Catholic church dominating the skyline instead of a mosque.  The flatlands eventually give way to a rocky ridge of hills that spill fierce winds from their slopes. It's a frigid wind too, chilling us to the coldest we've been on the entire trip. Four weeks ago the climbing would have been a strain but with legs honed in the High Atlas we can spin up and over with relative ease. Then it's down from 1011m to sea level. Pushing the bikes to now familiar limits. A cycle path takes us into the bustle of Santander and we pick our way through to the port where our boat sits waiting to complete our journey back to the UK. We'll have 22 hours at sea to try and process everything we've seen together over the last few weeks. I suspect it won't be nearly long enough.

Pop quiz: Does Spain have a land border with Morocco? Answer below.... It's the last few days of the Moroccan leg of the trip and we mix with the tourists in Chefchouen before climbing through the now obligatory route through the town's tip. It must have been a joke by the Bikepacking.com route designer to include a tour of all the tips in the country along the way. Benni rejoins us and we enjoy smooth roads for an easy morning's ride.  We could have been even more chilled out if I'd accepted one of at least a dozen offers of hash along the way. Copious amounts of marijuana are grown on these hillsides and it seems that everyone is a dealer. Another spectacular gorge opens up before us in the evening light and we settle into a campsite right by the river. The same gorge then offers Tara and I our final off road section as we pick our way along a thin ribbon of donkey track perched on a ledge part way up the cliff. The view is magnificent but most of our attention is focussed on staying upright. Back on the road, the deep blue of the Mediterranean appears on the horizon and becomes our companion for the last 2 days. Through Tatouan we find ourselves in what feels like a completely different country. Expensive coffee shops sit next to huge gated communities, golf courses and BMW dealerships. This is where the wealth of Morocco comes to retire and it's a world away from the mountain villages from just a few days ago. Then we reach the border. Police patrol the road leading up to it and there's a tall fence topped with barbed wire. We get waved up to the first booth and asked what is in our panniers. There's not much investigation after peeling back the first layer of dubious smelling kit so we get stamped out and say Hola to Spain. This is Ceuta, a small enclave that has belonged to Spain since 1578. We spend our last night in Africa high up on the peninsula with views over the straight of Gibraltar including the rock itself. Mainland Spain feels within touching distance and will be our destination in the morning. There's still some planning to be done as to how we will be getting home but it will probably involve some buses, trains, cycling and a ferry.

Moroccan kids seem to have a period in their lives where it's compulsory to be as annoying as possible. Shouting, running into the road, trying to grab passing bikes and occasionally throwing stones are universally accepted behaviour. One cheeky little tike even offered to push Zoe's bike only to steal her favourite merino socks from a pannier in the process. Then at a certain age, and we're not sure when or how, they become some of the nicest human beings you're likely to encounter. Perhaps it's the last module they teach before the end of school.  Refreshed from Fez, the road winds out of the city and inevitably ramps back up towards the sky. Sometimes smooth, sometimes bumpy our route takes us further and further north. The hills are now lush and green with acres of olive groves that offer somewhere to camp and some of the tastiest olives so far.  We work our way round a huge reservoir and are now feeling the heat from being at a lower altitude. Bottles get filled and drained on the hour every hour. There are some chunky mountains surrounding us but this is much more densely populated than the Atlas with villages and towns on ridges and plateaus all along the road. People are busy everywhere which means more interaction with kids but also some more kind hospitality. After another unexpected but much needed night with a family the group splits three ways. Benni has a fever so chooses to spend the day resting. Zoe and Kirsty have a stretch of road down to Chefchouen while Tara and I are keen for a challenge.  Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for. The 44km route through Tallasamtane National Park proves to be one of the toughest days either of us have been stupid enough to spend on a touring bike. We eventually drop down into Chefchouen just before sunset battered, bruised and hungry but somehow still happy that we'd gone that way. There are just a few days left now until we reach The Med. Time to ease off the gas and wring as much out of that time as we can. We won't miss the kids though.

In Morocco you should always pour a glass of tea then immediately return it to the pot. Then each glass is filled from as great a height as you dare. Proficient pourers can get the pot near to the ceiling with the glass still on the table and not spill a drop. Leaving Oum Rabia we're pleased to see that the rain has stopped and the blue skies are back. From here until Tangiers we are loosely following The Route of the Caravans which has been published on Bikepacking.com and claims to offer some of the best off road tracks and trails in this part of the country. Half the group loves this idea while the other half prefers smooth tarmac (as as near as you can get to smooth in Morocco) so Kirsty has devised options to suit both sides. For each off road section there's a road option so everyone can choose which one they want to do. At our first split point, Kirsty and Zoe continue on the road while Tara, Benni and I begin a 20km loop through the forest and across the moor. Along the way we meet two Belgians carrying little more than a bivvy bag and a pair of flip flops, traveling light, moving fast and sleeping rough. They marvel at our heavy rigs but we have the luxury of time so don't mind that our progress is a bit slower.  We regroup with the others to camp together and share some trails in the morning into the smart town of Ifrane then split again. The next section puts the rock into Morocco. There are rocks by the trail, rocks on the trail, rocks in the puddles and a rock that throws me over the bars on a fast descent. I'll have sore ribs for a few days, but thankfully the bike is unharmed. We're now approaching Fez and after being hosted by another wonderful family we enter the modern city and then the labyrinth that is the ancient Medina to arrive at our traditional riad. We're ready for our day off which gives us a chance to fettle the bikes, clean clothes, refuel on tasty food and Benni and I experience a local hammam. It's not exactly a soothing spa treatment but we leave about as clean as we can possibly get and with minimal bruising.  We may be out of the Atlas Mountains but there should still be plenty of great riding ahead as we pedal north.