Danube: Day 1 Cambridge to...Cambridge

So it begins again...or, as we shall see, it really didn't begin

After the 2022 trip from Cambridge to Warsaw and the 2023 trip from Cambridge to Stockholm, it’s time to do yet another pointless long distance self-supported solo bike ride. Feel free to click on the links above to get the full omnibus edition of all the blog posts for each ride. One of the favourite posts is the one where I ate a Swedish family's breakfast and got into a bit of trouble.

After discarding a lot of alternatives which in retrospect probably would have been better choices, I decided to cycle down the Danube from Vienna to the Black Sea. This was going to be somewhat more challenging than the previous two rides. Countries like Serbia, Romania and Bulgaria are not maybe quite as cycle friendly (or indeed friendly) as Denmark, Holland and Germany. Logistics planning was tough, the places with accommodation were few and far between, and the temperatures were going to be brutally high.

The first logistical challenge was working out how to get a bike to the start line since I’m obviously not cycling to Vienna before starting and then how to get my bike back from the finish point. Endless variations of flights, shipping methods, hotels were minutely analysed but eventually I settled on shipping my bike bag to a hotel in Bucharest and taking my bike to Vienna in a disposable bike box.

I managed to source a cardboard bike box from the incomparable Primo Cycles in Cambridge. Thanks Stephen! If you ever need to buy a bike in Cambridge go and talk to Stephen. He's got an amazing stock of outstanding bikes and is exceptionally knowledgable.

The only downside of travelling like this was that I had to go to the airport in my appalling non-cycling clothes. Admittedly, I was flying from Stansted and flying RyanAir is already pretty appalling and therefore appalling clothing would fit right in.

I was at Stansted (which is truly the worst of the London airports) bright and early at 7am ready to do battle with the Ryanair check-in folks.

Trying to hide my appalling trousers and shoes made of chemicals

Much to my surprise, there were no queues, the bike box was accepted without a murmur and I sent it off down the "outsized baggage" belt with a cheery wave. "Next time I see you bike box we will be in Vienna airport together" I optimistically thought. Security was quiet, I found a quiet seat in a coffee bar and generally chilled. What could possibly go wrong?

It turns out quite a lot could go wrong. The flight was delayed from 09:10 to 09:40. Ho hum, these things happen. Then it was delayed from 09:40 to 13:45. I was looking at spending 6.5 hours in Stansted which is not something I would wish on an enemy but I could cope. I had films on my iPad, I had emails to do and I could tough it out. Stansted had gradually got very busy indeed but as long as I didn't need to go for a wee in the next 6 hours, I had a seat. Predictably, I needed a wee pretty soon (see the previous mention of coffee) and as I stood up, my comfy seat was pounced upon by two disputatious families who were still squaring up to each other as I left.

I sought out the Ryanair customer service desk which was cunningly hidden behind signs which said things like "if you pass this sign you will be eaten by a tiger" and "Ebola risk ahead". The two people behind the desk set new Olympic records for dismissiveness and indolence but I did manage to prise two bits of information from them.

• The flight was definitely going at 13:45
• There was a website address which I could use to ask for compensation.

The lady lugubriously informed me "almost nobody gets compensation because we make it pretty difficult". Although Ryanair's booking website is pig ugly, it is very slick. However, their complaints and compensation website was written by a summer intern sometime in 1996 and doesn't work. At all. I said quite a lot of rude works about Michael O'Leary for a while.

After exhausting my rich vocabulary of insulting epithets, the flight board flickered and my 13:45 flight was now leaving at 18:30. I was now looking at spending 12 hours in Stansted. This is also doable but at the cost of some significant damage to my airy and phlegmatic mein. Another problem was that I had packed my phone charger and iPad charger in my bike bag so I needed to go and spend £30 to get a charger because they wouldn't last 12 hours.

I walked out of the overpriced travel accessories store clutching my charger and glanced over at the departures board. Now my flight was leaving at 23:30.

Yes, that is a 14 hour delay...

I'm afraid that was that. Arriving in Vienna at 02:40 in the morning, trying to build my bike, get to the hotel and then get up at 6am for one of the longest days on the trip was going to be impossible. I needed to get out of the airport get my bike box back from baggage handling somehow.

It turns out that this happens quite a lot. Here's what you do: you go to some secret door near the toilets, you explain your predicament to a bored security guard who lets you back into the arrivals hall where you ask yet another disinterested and dismissive Ryanair operative to find your bike box somewhere in the bowels of Stansted and send it back up the big luggage belt.

Much to my surprise the bag appeared at the top of the belt in about 20 minutes.

Me looking pretty grumpy

Why am I looking so grumpy? Because my bag remained inaccessible for another 30 minutes. Security guards shouted at me when I tried to climb on the belt. I bet they weren't looking at a 14 hour delayed flight.

So so near yet so far...for 30 bloody minutes

Just to bring the whole thing to an appropriate close, the Stansted taxi company could definitely take me back to Cambridge but only if I waited for two hours (or maybe more: they weren't very clear on this). The red mist of bloody-mindedness descended at this point so I ran to the railway station wrestling my 17kg bike box all the way, bought a ticket and then found out that the Cambridge train was....cancelled.

Eventually, a combination of a couple of trains, a few changes which were made especially irritating and awkward with the aforementioned giant bike box, I made it back to Cambridge.

Nine hours after I left home...I was home again

It's hard to overestimate how much of a giant pain in the bum this ws. Hotels had been booked along the way. Changing them was going to be both difficult and expensive. I needed to find another flight to...somewhere...do some rerouting on the Garmin...rebook hotels...but...now I was home at least I had working internet which not something that Stansted managed. I headed out to do some travelling on the information superhighway.

[Some time passed...]

It was sorted. I got a flight to Budapest tomorrow with BA. Business class and the last available ticket. I could have bought five of my very first car for the same money — my first car did only cost £150. I was about to start rebooking and rerouting when daughter #2 made a great suggestion. Why not get a taxi to the place I had planned to stay tomorrow night (Komárom)? In the end, much cheaper than rebooking new hotels.

In summary, today was the worst start to any trip I have ever done in my entire life. It's just fortunate that I'm such a relaxed and phlegmatic kinda guy.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. It couldn't be worse.

Previous

Next