Girl on the Net

If you’re expecting the usual sex blogging here, you’ll be sorely disappointed. I wrote this because some people (like, literally about five) asked me if I was planning to blog about my recent bike trip across Europe, and although I’m not going to write a tonne of posts, I do love having the excuse to tell you the things that made it rock and the things I’d have done differently. Apart from anything else, it’s a fun opportunity to reflect on something I’m proud of and capture bits that I’d like to remember in years to come – I always tell other people to do this so maybe I should do it myself. But as I say it will only be of interest to about five of you, so consider yourself warned. I’m writing the advice part as if you want to do the exact same thing I did, but naturally your mileage may vary. Take what you want from this, ignore the bits you don’t, and please refrain from giving me advice because I haven’t asked for it. For me, part of the joy of doing this kind of thing is figuring it out on my own. I do this by seeking out other people’s blogs/videos/maps, taking what I need from those and discarding what I don’t. If you want to give advice to other cyclists, by all means do so, but please share it on a broadcast channel that anyone can read (like a quote post), rather than directing it at me in my comments. Anyway. If you want to do what I did (or something similar), here’s how to cycle from London to Budapest.

First thing’s first: don’t start in London.

UK cycle paths are mostly atrocious, and the ones from London out east towards the ferry port start off temptingly good but swiftly become a nightmare of busy A-roads and taking your life in your hands. Instead I’d advise taking your bike on a train out of Liverpool Street heading towards Harwich International. You’ll need a reservation for your bike, and I strongly advise you not to travel on a weekend. I booked my ferry and my train ticket together, well in advance, but unfortunately I was leaving on a Sunday and I’d forgotten to factor in the inevitable engineering works. After umm-ing and aah-ing about whether I was brave enough to put my precious bike on a rail replacement bus service, I contacted Greater Anglia customer services who informed me, hilariously, that I wouldn’t be allowed to do that anyway. Nor could I travel the day before and spend the night at a ferry terminal, because the trains were fucked on Saturday as well.

So I started my journey the opposite of how I meant to go on: by putting my bike in a fucking CAR to take it partway, then on two trains once I’d got past the broken train lines. Fuck the UK. We absolutely suck at this and it’s embarrassing.

Anyway. Stenaline ferries – Harwich International to Hook of Holland. You can also cross at Dover to start in Calais or take other routes, but I picked Harwich/Hook of Holland because I love the Netherlands and I’ve done that crossing many times before. There are day sailings if you’d rather travel when it’s light, but I love the magic of falling asleep on a ferry and waking up in another country so I took a night crossing. There’s also something childishly joyful about arriving at the ferry terminal on your bike, and just cycling through all the infrastructure that’s designed for cars. You ride onto the car deck, tie & lock your bike up there, then head upstairs to buy a pint and drink it while you wave goodbye to England.

The route

Ideally at some point before you do all this, you’ll have planned your route. I did this by means of a spreadsheet, Google Maps, the brilliant cannot-tell-you-how-much-I-love-it Eurovelo website, multiple vodka Cokes and some good old-fashioned guesswork. I’ve done very short bike trips before (5-7 days max) and on those I averaged somewhere between 20-40 miles per day. I once did a 50 mile day in the hot sun and that broke me. But I’m slightly fitter now than I was, and I wanted to be ambitious, so I planned for some longer days in the middle of the trip, with 30-50 mile average days to build up to them. My longest day was just over 70 miles, my shortest about 26. I took a rest day roughly once every 150-200 miles. Then I just looked at the maps, picked towns/cities that fell at roughly the right intervals, and added them to my spreadsheet.

I won’t give you a list of all the places I stopped, but I’ve highlighted especially good/promising ones below in case you want to visit them yourself. Bear in mind you might be very different from me in terms of what you want from a stopping place. I was traveling alone, so for me a big city with lots of bullshit free/cheap tourist stuff to do (ride the trams! Walk by the river! Drink cans in beautiful parks!) is usually preferable to tiny little villages where I’m staying in the only AirBnB in town and the whole thing is wipe clean so I worry it might belong to a serial killer.

This did actually happen. I was awake most of the night. I won’t tell you where that was but I chose it on purpose to have somewhere remote-ish I could stay to look at the stars. I live in London and even when I leave it, I usually go to another city so I very rarely see stars and I was excited by the possibility of having a look. Unfortunately the tiny village I picked gave me weird/bad feelings when I walked around it in daylight (every single house had a dog that started aggressively barking when I wandered past) so I didn’t get up the courage for the night-hike-with-stargazing that I’d aimed for. This is not the fault of the people in this tiny place, just a reflection of the fact that despite trying my best to be ‘brave’, secretly I am a trembling baby rabbit of a person. ANYWAY. 

When friends express amazement that I did this trip, the key thing I tell them is it’s much much easier than most people (especially people from the UK) tend to think because I’m not relying on maps much, but on the incredible cycling infrastructure of Europe. YAY EUROPE. My journey mainly ran along two well-signposted bike paths: Eurovelo 15 and Eurovelo 6.

Eurovelo 15 – Rhine route

The first leg was Eurovelo 15 – this basically follows the Rhine river between Lake Constance and the sea near the Hook of Holland. I’ve already done a lot of cycling in the Netherlands, so I played around a bit with the start of my journey to detour and see flowers blooming up in Leiden, joined the EV15 at Arnhem, then followed it (with only occasional detours when I missed a sign) through Germany, France, Switzerland and then back in to Germany again. I’ve cycled Lake Constance before too so I cut that part and headed straight to the Danube after Schaffhausen. I’d planned to take one train total during the trip, just because timing-wise I had to do a short hop from the Rhine to the Danube, so I got on a train from Schaffhausen to Ulm which is where I picked up the next waymarked route – EV6 (see below).

If you need to take trains for any part of your journey, it can be wildly confusing knowing which ones you’re allowed to take a bike on. Most of them you’ll have to buy a separate ticket for your bike. Bike reservations on international trains need to be booked through the Deutsche Bahn website.

Best section of Eurovelo 15

Strasbourg to Marcklesheim. Beyond phenomenal. My bike was being repaired in the morning on the day I was due to leave Strasbourg, so I couldn’t actually head off until about 3pm. I’d pored over the map a little and been disappointed because the route looked long and straight, so I assumed most would involve riding next to a major road. HOW WRONG I WAS. As you breeze out of Strasbourg, you come across a big wide canal with an amazingly smooth cycle path beside it – that was the straight thing on the map. The sun was shining, the trees provided dappled shade, and the worst hazard I came across was cherry blossoms falling on my head. Three hours or so of solidly beautiful, easy, chill cycling. Loved it so much – I was grinning from ear to ear the entire way.

Best places to stop:

There are TONNES of amazing cities along the Rhine route, but I especially loved:

Köln. I only stopped for lunch because I’ve been here before for a weekend. Amazing city though – climb the cathedral steps if you can/want to – it’s a very cool experience and was easier than I thought it’d be (but I didn’t do it during the bike trip – my quads have limits).

Bonn. I wish I’d had more time here. Lovely vibes, some really good places to eat/drink/watch the world go by. It also has a MATHS MUSEUM which I was gutted to find was closed on the day I was there. Should have researched.

Strasbourg. Probably my favourite city of all the stopping points – I had a rest day here and just wandered round taking in all the stunning architecture, eating cakes that were fuckably beautiful and delicious, and feeling all cosmopolitan and French.

Eurovelo 6 – Atlantic to Black Sea

Eurovelo 6 is an incredible route that goes from the Atlantic ocean, along the Loire valley in France, links up with the Danube, then eventually takes you all the way to the Black Sea. One day I want to ride all of it. But I started in Ulm for this trip, and followed the signs (where I could spot them) to Budapest from there – through Germany, Austria, Slovakia and then Hungary.

Best section of Eurovelo 6

The most beautiful ride of all was the section of EV6 that goes from Passau to Linz. I did this in a day and although it’s a long stretch, the paths are incredibly smooth and ludicrously easy to ride. What’s more the views are absolutely breathtaking, and there’s even a choice to go on one side of the river or the other (there are little ferries at various points waiting to take you across for a small fee of a few Euro). I literally just popped over to the other side when the sun got too hot and I wanted dappled shade, and it BLEW MY MIND that Austria had carefully prepared beautiful paths on both sides of the river. Just such a treat.

Austria was the most well set-up for cycling of all the places I went, and there’s a good reason why the most popular section of the Danube is the path from Passau to Vienna. When people have asked me which bit was best, I tell them this one, then add: Austria’s fit but she knows it. If you want to hang with someone who’s fit but doesn’t yet know it, I recommend the path less travelled…

Bratislava to Budapest. The cycling surfaces are patchier, and you’ll want to be careful in a few places, but honestly nothing too terrible – I want to emphasise this because I was really nervous about this section thanks to people online saying it was rough. I suspect these people might be European cyclists who are used to better cycle paths, so I figured some perspective might be helpful: even the roughest sections won’t ruin your life, I promise. There are stony bits and cracked bits but most of the time when you come across those sections, all you need to do is slow down. There was one significant section of about 4km where I needed to get off and push, and other sections which might cause you problems if you haven’t bought puncture-proof tyres, so just get the tyres and you’ll be grand.

Besides, it’s totally worth it for the peace and also the VIEWS, my God. Oh and beaches too. For a significant amount of the Slovakian journey you’re riding on a raised smooth concrete path through stunning woodland/meadows with wildflowers either side, and regular breaks in the trees that you can pop through to go sit on the beach/riverbank. You can’t swim everywhere in the Danube (beware currents) but there are myriad opportunities for a lovely little paddle, and when you hit the outskirts of Budapest, you can (and should) stop at Romai beach for a swim and a lángos if that sounds nice. Maybe have a drink at one of the little bars and grab a shot of Unicum (it’s cum milked from unicorns and definitely doesn’t taste like battery acid).

Best places to stop:

Regensburg: Could have spent a couple more days here, I reckon. Fun city, awesome food and great places to drink. Has the weirdest museum I have ever been to.

Straubing: It has BLUE BRIX. My friend Tabitha was with me for this little section of the trip and I had explained to her how desperate I was to get to this place because I am a big fan of huge Lego models and miniature railways and dioramas of all kinds. We arrived an hour before it closed and the woman on the desk looked skeptical about letting us in until we begged.

“But you’ll only have an hour?”

“I cycled all the way from the UK to be here, I promise you an hour will still bring me joy!”

And it did. Totally worth it. MINIATURE TRAINS.

Vienna: Proper good. By this point in my journey I was exhausted by having to interact with people in other languages, because it triggers my relentless self-hatred and worry that I’m doing/saying something accidentally rude. It was nice to hit such a touristy city where you can just wander into whichever restaurant looks easiest and beg to be ripped off in exchange for schnitzel. I bought a Vienna card and rode around on their lovely (and kinda vintage-feeling) tube network, hopping out occasionally to look at massive, beautiful buildings or sit in a park drinking beer and sampling the local cuisine that I am most obsessed with (European Haribo that you can’t get in the UK).

I also went to the light show at the Votivkirche which was mesmerising and incredible – the entire interior of the church awash with projected imagery that at times makes you feel like the whole building is bathed in ethereal light, or melting, or at the bottom of the ocean, or being eaten by a shark. I’ve seen light shows that try to do this before but nothing has come close to what this one accomplished.

(It would have been vastly improved if the church didn’t explicitly announce at the start of the show that it was OK for people to pull their fucking phone out and film the whole thing though. “Nice immersive light show you’ve got there, would be a shame if the entire experience was rendered significantly less magical by the presence of forty iPhone screens in your peripheral vision!”. Is it weird that I’m including this detail in the blog post? Yes. But that is how much it enraged me. That church does two light shows per day – 8:30pm and 10pm – to an audience of over 400 by my estimation, and they’re nearly always sold out. Do they really need people giving them extra promotion by posting terrible amateur blurry Instagram reels that couldn’t possibly hope to capture the wonder of being in the room? Wonder that is in the process of being RUINED for everyone else because aforementioned amateur influencer has their phone brightness set to blind everyone within a five foot radius? Note, also, that they run two shows per day and both shows are AT NIGHT TIME. The reason they are AT NIGHT TIME is because the presence of external light really fucking RUINS A LIGHT SHOW. At the very least they should make one of those shows a ‘no phones’ affair so curmudgeonly cunts like me can go to that one)

Bratislava: Kickass city, would love to visit again and spend more time exploring. There was a festival happening when I arrived with a stage in the square and circus performers/music/other cool shit and the atmosphere was pure joy. Have a strong suspicion that if you can avoid the stag parties, Bratislava would have exceptionally fun vibes for a city break. I went to a restaurant near the main square and asked them to bring me whatever local food they recommended: sauerkraut soup and far too many pierogis later, I was sold.

Esztergom: Gorgeous place to wander around soaking up historical stuff. The basilica and the gardens around it were pretty and peaceful and perfect. The bridge between Hungary and Slovakia is really cool too, and crossing it to enter Esztergom from the north gives you a stunning view of all the old shit laid out on a beautiful hill.

London to Budapest: the kit

I am not a proper cyclist really. I do not have a fancy bike or any of the expensive ephemera that goes with it. I own one (1) proper cycling tech t-shirt, with clever fabric that wicks away sweat and can be worn in heat or cold, and I only own that because I inherited it from an ex-boyfriend. Apart from that, I brought:

Kit – clothes:

• 3 t-shirts
• 1 long-sleeved cycling top
• 3 pairs of leggings
• two pairs of jeggings for eveningwear (yes, jeggings are eveningwear fuck you)
• one jumper
• one fleece
• one hoodie
• one shirt + a strappy top to go underneath it
• 5 pairs cotton knickers (for daytime – if you have a vulva you will understand that on a bike it gets fucking SWAMPY down there)
• 3 thongs (again: eveningwear)
• 5 pairs socks
• waterproof trousers
• waterproof cycling jacket
• hiking shoes – the only shoes I brought with me, which I wore at all times – for cycling as well as going on lovely walks

Not all of this was necessary, and one of my biggest regrets on the trip was how much fucking WEIGHT I was carrying. I was constantly on the lookout for things I could jettison as the trip went on. The waterproof trousers were the first thing to go. I have never worn the waterproof jacket, I only kept it because I’ll probably find a use for it when I’m back home in rainy London. But it turns out that when it rains I just get wet and don’t really care – I’m not made of paper, it’s fine. Plus, it was spring. During the early stages of the journey, in windy/wet Netherlands and northern Germany, I got a few days with on/off rain, a little hail at points, and one day of what I think was genuine snow (just a dusting). Nothing that fully soaked me though, and if I do this again at a similar time of year I won’t bother with the waterproofs. If you’re camping and you’ll spend your nights in a tent, your calculations on this front may differ.

Other things I didn’t need: the hoodie was a luxury, I just like wearing hoodies and prefer them in the evenings to a fleece. Could have got away with one pair of jeggings, I think. And fuck the shirt – that got torn into rags that I used to clean my bike chain. If I’d had two cycle tech t-shirts, I could probably have got away with not bringing any others. They really are very good at not stinking – even after a 70 mile day in the sun.

Kit that was not clothes:

• Bike tools/pump/chain lube. All incredibly necessary and very useful, don’t forget these.
• Laptop. Wish I had a smaller/lighter one, and I wish I’d done more writing while I was away, but still: I needed it and it was worth bringing. Some people suggested I get a foldout bluetooth keyboard and attach it to a phone, but I am an obsessive writer and I need to work with something more substantial than that. Plus, sometimes I was too tired/anxious to find sports bars to watch the football in, so having my laptop on match days was a joy.
• Phones/headphones. More on headphones in a sec.
• Super efficient battery pack to charge phones/vapes/headphones etc, plus all available wires. Gold dust. Incidentally if you’re traveling in Europe with old tech that requires micro USB, know that thanks to new EU regulations everything has to be standardised with USB-C, so micro USB cables are incredibly hard to find. I lost mine partway through and had to visit about twenty different shops in some random Austrian town before I eventually found a multi-cable to recharge my precious headphones. Take a spare if you’re in the same boat.
• Universal travel adapter: ditto very helpful, obvs.
• Enough vape pods to last the whole trip. It was kind of weird chucking a massive pile of Vuse pods in my pannier because they took up lots of space. But I couldn’t be sure I could get my brand of pods on the road, so having them was valuable. They lasted the whole journey by the skin of my teeth, and luckily a hot man I know flew out to shag me senseless join me in Budapest so he brought a few extra packs to top me up at the end.
• Enough contact lenses to last 6 days per week (I wore my glasses on rest days), plus glasses + sunglasses + prescription sunglasses. Glasses-wearers: our struggle is real and never let anyone tell you otherwise.
• Small bottle of travel wash liquid so I could wash some of my clothes in the sink if I couldn’t get to a laundrette on rest days.
• Make-up. Toiletries in tiny bottles which I restocked as the trip went on (mostly by refilling them if I stayed in a place that had shampoo/shower gel etc). Comb instead of a hairbrush (hard for me but I braved it).
• Godemiche Ambit dildo and Zumio vibrator. I’m not going to spend five weeks not having a wank. Though I did have to spend my final week wankless because – during overzealous packing – I accidentally snapped the tip off my Zumio. Don’t even think about laughing: this trip travesty is right up there as one of the worst things to happen to me while traveling, second only to that time I lost all my money and my passport the day I arrived in China. I should have gone to a sex toy shop to pick up a new vibrator, but physical shops don’t tend to stock Zumios and I was nearly at the end of the road by then so I made do. It was a great hardship and when I got home I had a much-needed reunion with my beloved Doxy.
• Kindle. I thought this was VITAL but then I lost mine about 500 miles in, and ended up just reading books on the app on my phone. It’s not as good, but it was do-able enough that I probably won’t bring a Kindle if I do this kind of trip again. Can’t stress enough how much I desperately wanted to drop weight.
• Small bag for evening times. Again, could probably at a pinch have dropped this and just used my day pack even though it’s bulky. I didn’t end up doing much evening stuff I couldn’t have brought a backpack to.
• Bank cards, passport, obvs.
• GHIC card. If you’re in the UK and you’re of my generation, this is what the ‘EHIC’ card looks like post-Brexit. You need one in Europe in case you smash yourself up – otherwise if you come off your bike and need to go to hospital you’ll be landed with a bill, like it’s America. Shudder.
• First aid kit. I actually didn’t pack one of these, it was a gift from a kindly old man in Regensburg. Unlucky timing, because I’d already had my one and only smash-yourself-to-bleeding-bits accident the day before I hit Regensburg. When that happened I only had a pack of antiseptic wipes and a handful of disintegrating tissues to clean myself up. Where’s Alanis with 10,000 spoons when you need her?

This might sound like a lot but it packs down fairly small and all of it fit into two 20 litre panniers that clipped on to my bike rack.

Kit that was specifically cycling focused

• Altura clip-on panniers. I love these so much. Quick to get on and off so almost no faff when you’re taking a break. The ones I have aren’t sold any more but that link takes you to the nearest equivalent.
• Schwalbe marathon plus tyres. THE BOMB. Puncture-proof (or as good as). I rode over 1300 miles and did not get a single puncture. Fuck yeah. Buy these. They’re the nuts. Probably the best money I have ever spent on bike stuff apart from…
• Shokz bone conductive headphones. Again, mine are old so I can’t find the exact ones but these are the newer version. These sit over your ears, not in them, so you can still hear the noise from the road (and birds singing, bees buzzing, French cyclists saying ‘bonjour’ at you like you’re in a film) while your tunes are playing in the background. I got mine yonks ago and they’re still going strong. Could not have done this without them – especially on the longer days, I needed sound. Powerful punk to get me through tough runs, audiobooks to entertain me, chill tunes to wind down with as I carved up the last miles of the day.
• Bunjy cords with carabiners on the end. INCREDIBLY useful. I only bought these last minute because initially I was just going to carry my day pack on my back, but I’m so glad I got ‘em so I could strap my pack to the top of the rack and feel freeeeeee instead. Solid.
• Gel saddle cover. I’ve had the piss taken out of me for using one of these but I don’t give a fuck. Bike saddles can be extremely uncomfortable, especially if you have a vulva. I do not wish to hear from cis men about how I’m a wuss for requiring a gel cover. To be honest, even with a gel cover my flaps are still pretty mashed by the end of the day. Sometimes I’ve been riding so long that I get pins and needles in my downstairs, and although that sounds like it might be thrilling, I assure you there’s nothing pleasurable about walking around with a fizzy cunt.
• Spare inner tube. I actually wouldn’t bother bringing one of these again because the puncture-proof tyres are so good, and the routes I was taking had plenty of bike shops so I would never have been far from an inner tube if I needed one. Besides, when I actually had cause to use it (because I dented one of my wheel rims and burst an inner tube trying to fix the problem), it turns out it was the wrong type because the guy in my bike shop back home had brainfarted when I asked for a spare. Thanks a lot, man. I carried that over 1000 miles for NOTHING.

London to Budapest: Accommodation

Lots of people asked me if I camped in a tent, and I’m sorry to disappoint you here but no. I’ve been a festival person for a lot of my life, and always loved camping, but in recent years it’s started to fuck up my back, and I didn’t want to risk that when I had to get on my bike each morning after a rock-hard night on the ground. I stayed in a combination of hostels, cheap hotels and AirBnBs. Because I’m an anxious person, I worried that prices would suddenly soar if I was booking accommodation last minute, so before I left on the trip I booked my first two weeks of accommodation in advance (using a credit card that got me cashback, and booking as much as possible through sites that would give kickbacks on TopCashback.co.uk). This turned out to be unnecessary so as the trip went on I became way more lax about pre-booking and instead just planned one day ahead (I like waking up in the morning with a solid idea of where I’ll be at the end of the day). It allowed much more flexibility – for example if I felt the previous day’s ride was too short/easy I could edit my route plan and do a longer one the next day, or vice versa. Or if I managed to get my shit together and research fun things to do, I could make last-minuute adjustments to take in something especially pretty or cool.

Accommodation cost varied – the most expensive night was over £100 (pricey nights were the ones in bigger cities, in Switzerland, or when I had a friend staying with me so I wanted to get us somewhere nice) and the cheapest night was £26 (in Hungary, towards the end). If you want to do this on the cheap but without camping, opting for stops in bigger cities means you can opt for a shared hostel room.

My biggest tip here: filter rooms based on which ones come with free breakfast. The thing I fucked up most consistently on this trip was food, so staying anywhere that let me have a crack at a continental buffet (Ham! Cheese! Yoghurt! Fruit!) first thing in the morning was a big priority. That way I could load up on protein and vitamins to make up for the inevitable Haribo/sugarwaffles/beer/full-fat-Coke disaster that would inevitably befall the rest of my day.

I spent quite a lot on accommodation, though. Look away now if you’re easily shocked, but I averaged around £70 per night and in total I spent about £2800 on accommodation. Having said that, it’s important to note that:

a) I was away for five weeks. So if you were to do this kind of thing for a standard two week holiday, you’re looking at a far more reasonable £1120. Halve that if you have a partner/pal.

b) I definitely could have chosen cheaper accommodation on some of the nights, but I was doing this with savings I already had and my budget was £3000 so I’m pleased I came under.

c) loads of people spend way more than this on holidays, don’t they? I don’t have kids to take with me, so I imagine those of you who do might think me a jammy git.

d) I don’t normally go on holidays, usually my annual trips are long-weekend festivals.

While we’re at this, though, let’s do costs in general:

Cost

I don’t have an accurate figure of everything broken down, but I can tell you:

Accommodation was around £2800 (this doesn’t include accommodation in Budapest at the end because I was staying with a man who had flown out to dispense dick friend so we picked somewhere silly and expensive in which to reintroduce my rock-hard body to blissful depravity soothe my aching muscles.

Travel: the ferry to Hook of Holland (including cost for a cabin to sleep in) came to £130, including the train ticket to Harwich, which I could only half-use. The flight back was around £200, but that includes the cost of flying a bike back, plus I paid for extra baggage I didn’t need because I couldn’t predict how much I’d have to check in and I’m terrified of Ryanair. Train in the middle to hop from Rhine to the Danube cost just over £100.

Bike repairs: I stopped at 3 bike shops in total on this trip, and a couple did repairs. Huge shoutout to Arcadio at Parco Cycles in Strasbourg who helped me with a properly head-scratching problem, and put a lot of time and work into making sure I could continue my journey that same day – I am so grateful. Also big thanks to Robert of Radwerk JR in Vienna who checked everything over without charging me, giving me the confidence that carried me through the last few hundred miles. There was one other bike shop I went to, towards the end of my journey, but the guy in that last place was kinda rude and he definitely overcharged me so I won’t mention it here. Total cost for bike repairs: £120 (ish).

Food/drink: this might surprise you, but I think I spent less on food and drink while traveling than I usually do at home. Why? Lots of reasons. Firstly, I didn’t eat out as much as I’d thought I would – I got scared about walking into unknown restaurants and ordering in languages I knew I would fuck up. I drank a hell of a lot less than I would at home, and booze is where most of my food budget goes usually. What’s more, quite often on the road I just didn’t feel hungry, possibly because of all the breakfast-frontloading I did in the mornings, or because I always had some sugary snacks to tide me over. I am often rubbish at food and if I’m not in a routine I’ll skip meals because I forgot, then end up eating two packets of crisps at 10pm because there’s nothing else available. My most expensive food days would be ones where I’d grab lunch and a beer en route (£20), then go out for a nice meal in the evening (£40). But they were incredibly rare, and more often I’d end up delaying lunch until it became dinner, then buying a couple of cans of beer and cheap supermarket pastries (European Aldi/Lidls [I can never tell the difference] sell borek rolls that are crazy good) to have while sitting by the river. On those days my food/drink would probably total around £15-20.

At home in London, going out with a few friends and buying one (1) round of drinks can easily set you back 35 quid, and the tube fare there and back will cost £7.80. Add some cheesy chips or a burger and you can see how an average casual evening in London requires a way bigger budget than an average day on my bike. On top of this, at home I spend money on things I just didn’t have to (or couldn’t) buy while I was traveling: toilet roll, shampoo, salt for the dishwasher, weed, tickets to gigs and shows, loads more.

Because I didn’t keep a rigorous account of how much I spent on food and other bits and pieces, calculating the cost of this trip is pretty tough, but I’ve done it by working out roughly how much I spend on my credit card during a comparable period at home, checking how much I spent during the time I was gone, then telling you the difference. Ready?

About £3,700.

I’ll let you decide if it that’s too much or not enough or about right, but what I will tell you is that I had an incredible time and I’d do it again in a heartbeat (if £3700 dropped into my lap for a second time). Those of you who have seen me moaning here about how broke I’ve been might in the past wonder where it came from in the first place, so I’ll tell you: I inherited it. It feels weird to obsessively account for myself like this, but a lot of you support me on Patreon, and I would be horrified if you thought that your money was being wasted on holidays: I actually use it to make pornography.

What about work?

A couple of people asked me this, including one man I met on the road whose primary concern was how the hell I’d managed to score so much time off. He couldn’t get stuck into cycling until he retired, and was amazed that a relative young ‘un like me could go gallivanting for over a month. So here: my day job boss very kindly juggled a tonne of scheduling to let me go. I’m incredibly grateful to her, I’m taking on extra days now I’m back, and I’ll pick up extras when she needs a break later in the year as well. Sharing is caring, innit. If you have a day job also, then you have all my sympathy. Some workplaces will let you save leave, or buy more leave, but ultimately you probably want to do a shorter section if you have less time (see final section for some recommendations on which bit to try).

The GOTN portion of my work was a feat of extreme focus and dedication and I’m proud of myself for it. I basically lined up (almost) every single thing which needed to go live – on the site and on Patreon – while I was gone, then made sure to send it to the people who needed to see it (and pay their invoices/do the paperwork) before I got on the ferry. This meant pre-writing weekly blog-posts, recording a tonne of audio, editing a tonne of audio, editing guest blogs and sending them back for consents, paying every invoice (and getting some people to invoice me ahead of time so I could do this), and then setting publication schedules so some of it would go up automatically. I sent all the posts to Stuart ahead of time and he sent me the illustrations each week when he’d finished them.

Then I created a massive content planning spreadsheet so that, on the road, I could just look at the date and see what was due up, push it live, promote it on social media, then get on my bike. On my rest days I’d catch up with emails and comments, schedule posts for BlueSky and Mastodon, record the few bits of bonus extras I do for Patreons each month, and occasionally draft something that might turn into a post in future. It meant a lot to me to not just drop everything while I was gone, plus being frantically busy pre-writing posts and recording audio also proved useful in distracting me from the anticipatory ‘what the fuck am I doing?’ terror that I’d otherwise have felt in advance of my trip.

What’s it like traveling as a woman alone?

I want to address this because I think it’s a question that a lot of women ask ourselves – and get asked, if we travel alone. Is it safe? Honest answer: mostly, yes. I felt pretty safe throughout the journey, and at points I felt very supported too. When I came off my bike and was bleeding and weeping a guy came to check on me. At one point an elderly German man spotted me on the verge of tears at a dodgy junction and he pulled his car into a bus stop so he could give me directions. In Slovakia, I had my bike upside down to try and sort something out and a very sexy dude came over to offer some help. I would have said ‘yes’ but unfortunately just before he arrived an insect had flown down my top and started stinging, so I waved him on, then as soon as he was out of sight I tore off my tshirt and performed an embarrassing dance.

But I didn’t ever get catcalled or attacked – the only crime anyone committed against me was in a souvenir shop in Vienna where a SNEAKY MOTHERFUCKER overcharged me for international stamps. I went into restaurants and pubs alone and I felt very safe. I even watched a few football matches in sports bars alone, and although I felt awkward because the bars were full of men, no one ever told me I shouldn’t be there or gave me grief for being a woman without someone to chaperone her. I sat in parks alone and walked by the river alone. At one point I sat under the shade outside a grubby little bar alone, and immediately got surrounded by a large group of old dudes in lycra who explained they just wanted to sit somewhere out of the sunshine… then continued their conversation, and left me the fuck alone. It was great.

There was only one point at which I felt genuinely unsafe, which I’ll talk about in Sunday’s blog post, but that was not a result of ‘being a woman traveling alone’, it was a result of ‘being a woman who tried to socialise with a man who turned out to be a dickhead’.

What I will say, though, is that here more than anywhere else: your mileage may vary. I am nearly six foot tall, forty-two years old, white and cisgender and able-bodied. I am used to living in places and doing things that other people think are scary. When I was younger, I traveled in a bunch of other countries which were far less familiar to me than Europe, so Europe doesn’t feel that far from home. I live in London these days and I have rarely felt unsafe here, even when so many people who’ve never been picture it as a terrifying, crime-ridden hellscape. I could count the number of times I’ve been scared in London on one hand, and at least two of those can be chalked up to stoned paranoia. I’ve walked through a riot, stood at bus stops wearing a corset and heels, let strange men stay in my flat when their friends abandoned them at a strip club… London doesn’t frighten me really. The general day-to-day aspects of being a woman don’t scare me, except in highly unusual circumstances (I used to have a thing for night-time walks, but I stopped doing those not long after the news came out about Sarah Everard). What I’m saying is that I’m not easily scared, but I also have privilege and experience that means I may not be the best judge of what feels ‘safe’ to others, and I don’t want to be one of the eagles in this cartoon.

I felt safe. Your mileage may vary. I fervently hope it does not.

Things I would do again and things I’d do differently

I would definitely do this again, and in fact I’ve already wrapped ‘staring at the Eurovelo website’ into my late-night dreamscrolling (along with ‘looking at houses on Rightmove that I’ll never afford’). I almost want to quit this sex blogging lark in favour of starting a bike travel blog where I obsessively ride every single one of the Eurovelo routes then bore you all with pictures of my favourite cycle paths. So if you’re thinking you might like to try this, please do. It was an incredible experience and I feel ludicrously lucky that I got to do it.

I obviously wouldn’t do the same route again, but if you haven’t done this one before then I recommend it strongly. I think it’s a mostly easy cycle for a newbie, you can just adjust your stops depending on how many miles per day you can cover. It’s predominantly flat and well signposted, but if you get lost you’ll usually have mobile signal to call up a map. A lot of it runs on smooth paths by the river, and you’re rarely far from help if you get a puncture or fall off your bike. If you don’t have time for a long trip and you just want to do a section, I’d recommend the pretty stretch of the Danube from Passau to Vienna (you can fly out and hire a bike – tonnes of companies offer this as an option), the fun bit of the Rhine from Dusseldorf to Basel, or if you want something cheaper and less touristy, the section from Bratislava to Budapest. If you’ve never done a cycle holiday before and you want to try it out, you could do a quick circular route through the Netherlands to test the water. Here’s a route plan for ya: Hook of Holland, Leiden, Amsterdam, Utrecht, Gouda, Rotterdam, then back to Hook of Holland for the ferry. Short-ish days with a couple of longer ones too – if you get tired, hop on a train.

I can’t stress enough how much of an evangelist I am for this kind of thing. Not only do you get to avoid flying, which is boring and tedious and horrible, you get to see more of a country and experience all the weird little things that you wouldn’t make a conscious point of looking for. What’s more, the pleasure of spending your days achieving a fun goal (get from A to B), and the satisfaction when you reach your destination knowing you carried everything you need strapped to your bike… it’s unbeatable, in my opinion. Like I say, it won’t be for everyone, but if you’ve read this far down you probably have an inkling if it might be for you.

No matter which route I pick next, though, I think I’ll either do a circular ride with a ferry at the beginning and end or begin my journey at the furthest point from home and then ride back. Arriving in Budapest with the knowledge I’d have to fly back weighed heavily on me. I hate flying so much. Other key changes I’d make if I did it again: less weight. A lighter laptop, no waterproofs, lighter/better cycling clothes. Hopefully I’ll have quit vaping before the next one so I won’t need to bring a pile of vape pods with me either.

The time of year was perfect (March – May), though I reckon end of summer/start of autumn could be similarly great.

I could have planned better if I’d tried, too, researching things to do in each place I was stopping. I focused so much on the cycling, and worried so much about not being able to actually do the miles, that I neglected to plan many things to do in each new town/city. I tended to arrive just as stuff was closing, and on reflection I should have done more days where I left my panniers/bike in a luggage room and took in some touristy shit in the morning before I set off. Having said that, I loved being able to just get on my bike first thing each morning. I wouldn’t be doing this if cycling didn’t bring me disproportionate joy, so I probably shouldn’t beat myself up for spending so much time doing exactly that.

The most important thing I want to note that I’d definitely do again is this: go solo. It surprises me to admit, because I do yearn deeply in my heart for a partner who’ll join me on these journeys. And if one happens to show up, I won’t turn them down. But although there are moments of loneliness and struggle that occur when you’re traveling alone, and the cost of accommodation is one hell of a kick in the teeth, there are so many things I did that I just wouldn’t have done if I’d had someone with me. I stopped when I felt like it, and never had to stop when someone else felt like it. I never had to cajole or encourage someone else out of a bad mood and into a good one. I didn’t have to advocate for the things I wanted to do, I just did them without needing to persuade a reluctant companion. I picked the music I wanted to listen to. For two days’ straight all I listened to was Gisele Pelicot’s memoir on audiobook (it’s incredible – her story is phenomenal, and her outlook gave me a tonne of emotions that I’m still working to process). I never had a fight with anyone about which direction to take, and when I got lost I only ever needed to blame myself. I had two showers a day and I never had to wait for the bathroom. I picked food based on what I wanted to eat rather than having to accommodate someone else’s weird food icks or force myself to try local dishes if I wasn’t feeling brave.

I could definitely have stopped for more ice creams, though. I only ever stopped for ice cream once, and all the time I was eating it – in the dappled shade on the banks of the Danube – I thought ‘this is nice, why haven’t I done this all along?’

I should have swum naked at the nudist beach instead of just riding right past. I should have made more efforts to make friends along the way. Maybe tried finding a couple of meetups in cities with people who knew the area. I should… ah fuck it. There’s a tonne of stuff I wish I’d done, and I could spend my whole life beating myself up for missed opportunities. But actually, the fact that I was doing this in the first place was a win in and of itself. A huge opportunity that I was lucky enough to be in the position to seize. There’ll always be things you miss out on, and could have done better, but that’s part of the joy of the journey – learning what you’re capable of, what you’re not, and what might be a useful goal to focus on in future.

Do you have any pictures of your favourite cycle paths?

You bet your sweet bruised ass I do.

Somewhere on the road between Utrecht and Arnhem, Netherlands. Dappled shade, well-maintained path, epic tunes = solid day.

The path here is badly surfaced, but it brought me no end of joy to see a cycle sign that pointed me INTO A RIVER. (There was a ferry, obviously). I think this is between Arnhem and Wesel.

Bonn to Koblenz. This is a cycle path, not a road. Separate paths for pedestrians and bikes, plenty of room and almost no one else around.

At the back of this image is a road flyover – the cycle path I traveled on hangs beneath that road so you ride for a bit thinking ‘eww this is grim’ then it spits you out into this gorgeous scene with mountains either side of the river. Lush. The path in the foreground isn’t the best, but notably this park (like many many others on the route) had a pump station with bike tools in case anyone needed them.

The canal path leading south out of Strasbourg. Be still my beating heart <3

The most stunning section for both cycling and views. Passau to Linz. Austria, you are a sexy sexy bitch.

The other side of the river on that same Passau-Linz section, just before I hopped on a ferry.

On the road between Grein and Melk – stunning orchards/vineyards with plenty of opportunities to buy wine/juice/fruit if you aren’t already laden down with far too much fucking STUFF. One place even had a WINE VENDING MACHINE.

Ohhhhh Vienna! Gorgeously smooth approach into the city, wide and separate from pedestrians and cars. There were lots of little bars and shops along this stretch – it felt like an awesome place to smoke weed if I’d had anyone to smoke with. Or any weed, come to think of it. And if it wasn’t illegal or whatever.

Warp tunnel out of Vienna – I bet I am not the only cyclist who audibly said ‘wheeeee’ as I rode through

Slightly downhill most of the way, carving through wide open fields with the wind at my back. The approach into Bratislava: absolute treat.

In Slovakia and Hungary, you often see adverts spray painted on the paths (GENIUS!) saying ‘bar 200m’ or ‘coffee 300m’ with an arrow. This one said ‘UNESCO world heritage site’ and then 100m later BAM there’s a Roman ruin. You can download an app to look around an impression of what it would be like. How cool is that?

The route out of Bratislava – see what I mean about the raised cycle paths (left)? Just such a gorgeous way to see the stunning views, and regular off-ramps (center) nudging you to take a rest and enjoy how incredible everything is

Coming in to Budapest. Looks pretty standard but there were loads of little lizards sunning themselves on this path which I couldn’t get a picture of. They were cute, even though I had to go really slowly to make sure I didn’t squish any.

Voilá. Thank you for joining me on this deeply self-indulgent journey. It took me far longer to write this than I thought, because as soon as I started typing I kept thinking of new things to say. Sorry about that. If you’re planning a trip like this and you have any burning questions you think I could help with, drop them in the comments. And if you’re thinking of doing something fun and adventurous for yourself, then – as always – I am waving my metaphorical pom-poms and cheering you on. Do the thing. Go for it. I believe in you.

Porn will resume shortly.