Field notes, routes and photographs from a bicycle crossing two continents — one line finished in Morocco, one line rolling home from Tbilisi right now.
The coral line is Trip 01 — Vienna to Morocco, finished and dusted. The dashed teal line is Trip 02 — Tbilisi to Vienna, rolling west as you read this. Click any waypoint to open its story: photographs, video and words from exactly that spot.
Somewhere east of the city the road flattened, the river appeared, and for the first time in 2,000 kilometres the map started naming places my grandmother could spell. Belgrade gave me a flat tire and a burek within the same hour. Balance restored.
See it on the map →Serbia announced itself with rakija at 9 a.m. from a farmer who insisted the bicycle needed blessing. Who am I to argue with liturgy like that?
Ferried across the Bosphorus at dawn, Asia to Europe with a simit in hand. I have now commuted between continents by bicycle.
The Anatolian plateau goes on forever and so do the tea stops. Truckers wave here like we share a union. Perhaps we do: the union of the long road.
Eighteen kilos, weighed and argued over at every border from Gibraltar to Georgia. If it doesn't earn its place by KM 500, it goes home in a box.