Stan Madness

I think it’s fair to say the Mission Oz team landed on their feet in Baku. The legend that is Andy Bliss kindly lent us his gaff for the duration while he was on leave back at home. This allowed us to have a base in which our winter clothes from home were to be sent out and necessary visas for the next part of the trip were to be collected. The next few weeks would see some of the much missed home comforts return to us. Hot showers, a TV to watch endless movies on, a spring mattress and a fridge full of food to name a few of life’s truly unappreciated luxuries. But best of all were the people we met there who were surprisingly un-phased to be seen with five hairy lads with Harold Shipman esq beards. We owe endless thanks to Andy and Linda Bliss, Paul and Maria McIntyre, Jimmy who took the boys out on the wild side of Baku, Alan the Haverton Hill hero, DJ Dave the rave Lawson who is an avid West Ham fan but still danced in our Boro shirts (video evidence) and donated £1270 to our charities through his golf club, top man! Terry and the lads from fountains bar for their outrageously generous donations to the charities, and the rest of the lads who treated us when we were there.

So with our time in Baku at an end it was time to make our way across the Caspian Sea to Aktau in Kazakhstan via ferry. A quick blast across the English channel from Dover to Calais in a good old P&O ferry are about the limit of our expertise at sea. The ferry, or should I say cargo ship across the Caspian was somewhat of an experience. Stories of the ferry lasting between 18 and 96 hours, no food served on board and bed comfort that the scruffiest of tramps would turn their nose up at made us expect the worst. And worst we got. Arriving in our cabins the bunks came in the form of a wooden plank with a dirty pillow and a rug to go over the top. A quick inspection under the rug proved to be like opening a fisherman’s bait box. White maggots squirming about everywhere were to be our bed mates for the next three nights. 66 hours later and after anchoring three times due to high winds Aktau was finally in sight.
Cycling out onto the Kazakh steppe with our panniers stuffed with winter kit and an added weight towing two trailers hit the team like a baseball bat to the groin. Jamie and Luke ‘hit the wall’ on the first day (which for you non-sporty people out there is when all energy is depleted and merely the act of turning the pedals round is a giant effort). Sam gladly provided Jamie with an energy gel which gave him some much needed ammunition as previous experiences on the bike have rewarded him with the name ‘Samuel Sphinkt-out’…. we’ll let you decide what that means. The Kazakh Steppe can not quite be described as desert but it’s just about there. The tarmac road ended not long after Aktau which marked the start of our mechanical nightmare. A day into this rocky, bumpy, uneven, orc-like beast of a road Ste’s rear derailleur decided to nose dive into his rear wheel spokes destroying the full thing. A few head scratches later we had Ste rigged up derailleur-less with a single-speed bike. To put this into context, in a head wind it was like churning out Chris Hoy’s track bike gear in treacle… and if we were ever lucky enough to get a tail wind (which we were not)it was like riding a little kids BMX bike down a 30% gradient. We could write a book titled ‘Mein Mechanical’ about this mishap but to cut a long story short the stats were as followed- 39 stoppages to put the chain back on, 27 snapped chains, 1 fixed buckle, 6 ‘rig ups’ to make the chain stay on including 2 toothbrush’s, 17 tie wraps, 10 metres of gaffa tape and last but not least, a suicidal Stephen Overty! Nevertheless the quote “Perseverando”- Thomas Conyers (1590), distilled in us from our secondary school days was highly appropriate for this situation.

The unpaved Kazakh road had hit the team hard, but one evening on our arrival at a local Cay house we thought our luck might have changed. We were greeted by Boris, the owner, who after what can only be said to have had a ‘skin full’ offered us a ‘free’ place to stay for the night. After a good helping of Chicken and with Boris demanding more vodka of his clearly angry wife and son we had a couple of tipples with him. Our problems started when it was time for bed. Apparently this Boris character had no jurisdiction in the cay house due to his constant drunkenness and so his son was demanding cash off us to sleep. Not being able to pay his prices we had to re-pannier the bikes, but not before the Rhino sized guard dog was to break off it’s lead and come hurtling towards Stephen and Luke while the young lad was getting pulled behind it trying to control the beast. Meanwhile Boris, being completely oblivious to what was going on around him, just swayed around in the minus temperatures. It seems that in this part of the world where there isn’t anything for miles around, many of the older men just drink all day and it is not uncommon to be stopped by a legless local. The moral that we took from this story was to not trust a drunken Cay house owner.

We had heard that the Kazakhstan – Uzbekistan border could be a nightmare at times. As we approached we could make out what looked like a huge train waiting at the border. As we got closer we realised that they were all wagons, waiting for what must be days to cross into Uzbekistan. There must have been over 300 wagons spanning well over a mile down the road. Fortunately we didn’t have to wait in this which is a good job as we would still be there now! Whilst filling out the obligatory declaration forms, we were approached by one of the chief guards, who was ironically drunk. He had studied in England and wondered if we were carrying any Ecstasy that he could have! We all looked at each other half laughing half shocked as he seemed disappointed and let us on our way. The currency in Uzbekistan is ‘Cym’ pronounced ‘Sum’ and the highest note value they have is a 1000 which is only 25p! For some reason the official rate is extremely low $1 to 2000 Cym, where as the black market rate is much higher 1$ to 2700 sum. Changing dollars left us with wads and wads of cash. It wasn’t long before the Robert DeNiro in Goodfellas impressions came about, tipping each other 25p into the non-existent ‘top pocket’ followed by the macho phrase “Treat yaself”.

The scenery didn’t really change through the Uzbek Steppe, it’s all the same just split through two countries. Coming off the Steppe for the first time was celebrated with Ste’s birthday. A skin full of vodka and some strange injuries the next morning was the sign that we had a good night. The majority of Uzbekistan is vast dessert so we were glad to arrive in Bukhara, a truly historic city on the Silk Road route. Genghis Kahn came here and as rumour has it, whilst tilting his head upwards to look at the Bukhara tower his helmet fell off. For some reason that was enough for him to leave the tower alone whist destroying other things in the city. Again we were helped massively by the locals, big thanks to the Pulatov Brothers who invited us in for their mothers fantastic Plov (traditional Uzbek meal) and put us up in a hotel for the evening. We couldn’t have got around Bukhara without their help, looking for ATM’s that are as scarce as an England world cup win.
After leaving Bukhara we headed to Samarkand, the next major city of Uzbekistan. That night we rode in the dark to find ourselves another warm Cay house to sleep in. The next morning treated us with a site that ten years ago would send us hurtling down the stairs, inhaling some breakfast down and getting geared up for a day of sledging, snowball fights and maybe in the silly adolescent years, a Blazin’ Squad size gang of toe rags launching a huge offensive on some innocent persons house that happens to provide a perfect getaway to a bombardment of snowballs. So the nightmare that was three inches of snow completely covering the road, with miles to tick off we geared up for a day on the piste, ski goggles and the lot! Riding like troopers over the mountains into Jizzakh the day was closing in quick. Worry began to set in when we realised we had no food left, a blizzard had engulfed us and no town was in sight. A more than sketchy descent and a deck out from Tom later, a tiny flicker in the distance marked a Cay house which wiped any thoughts of camping in two feet of snow with numb feet and no food out of our heads.

Arriving in Tashkent the process of getting the Chinese Visa was the first port of call. Ste, Jamie and Luke went straight off to book our flights to Beijing whilst Sam and Tom booked our Hotel for Beijing. Foreign travel to the Xingjiang province in China is widely forbidden therefore in order to obtain a visa we had to trick the embassy into thinking we were travelling to Beijing by plane! After successfully getting all the info we needed including five proof of employment letters (yes we are all site surveyor’s for ‘Rock Developments’) we set about finding somewhere to stay in Tashkent. Arriving at ‘Gelikon Vest Hotel’ the registration ball ache began so to cut a very long, nightmare of a story short don’t come to Uzbekistan without reading the small print which apparently requires you to register with a Hotel for every 72 hours of your stay. After being offered to stay in a 5* deluxe hotel with 75% discount it seemed too good to be true…it was! Good old registration ruined our day and I think it was safe to say morale was at an all time low having viewed the prospective Bedrooms, Sauna and Swimming pool ourselves arms behind back giving the satisfied nod of approval. After much help from our Uzbek Saints Rustam and Kholida, and many a phone call later we found ourselves in a very nice 4 * Hotel. Miraculously our registration problems had vanished with only a bribe of a slap up dinner in one of Tashkent’s fine diners for our helpful friend.
Sat here in the lobby of Hotel Uzbekistan after ten days of well appreciated luxury we are ready to tackle the hardest part of the trip yet. All we can say is temperatures will go below -25, altitudes will go above 3700 metres and layers of clothing will go above ten! We also have to mention the Hotel Concierge sitting behind us on his desk who oblivious to our knowledge spends a colossal amount of work hours searching through X-rated material, go on son!

New Years Day will mark 6 months on the road for the team and with a little under £10,000 raised, it’s fair to say we are well on our way to achieving the £20,000 target so thank you to all who have donated and supported us.
Thanks again,

The Team

Onwards and eastwards...

Getting to Istanbul felt like a real milestone and our first city with a noticeably different culture. The vastness of Istanbul is not to be down-played with many a bike tourist choosing the easy option of a ferry in avoiding the infinite number of horn bashing cars, buses, taxis and lorries all over the roads.

On arrival we checked into a funky jazz hostel which was the place that the Mission Oz team would turn over 80 litres of Cay in the next few days. The cleaner of the hostel was surprisingly happy to take on a huge pile of stinking clothes that had been gathering all sorts of awful aromas over the past few weeks trapped in our panniers. Our good fortune ran out when discovering that the cleaner had shrank all of our fleeces to under 11 boys size. Cheers mate.

Istanbul was where Sam's folks flew out and met us bringing with them some much needed essentials for the road with a memorable highlight being a packet of Percy Pigs AKA 'morale in a bag'. Eating them we couldn't help but dream of a Marks and Spencer's sponsorship providing Percy Pig air drops all over the world.

The Lonely Planet website regards Istanbul as so vast, 2 weeks in the city would not do it justice. With that in mind we tried to see what we could in the few days that were spent there. Visits to the Grand Bazaar, Egyptian Spice Bazaar, Blue Mosque, Topkapi Palace and Taksim Square were some of the highlights. Oh, and not to forget the local McDonalds round the corner who were selling a Mega Mac, a double sized Big Mac that would sky-rocket the obesity epidemic in Britain to gargantuan proportions.

Reading in a tourist guide book that bartering for goods was advised in the Grand Bazaar we took this advice to the not so barterable Spice Bazaar. Wanting a selection of spices to throw in our meals for the road ahead we set about trying to get an absurdly low price for them. Jamie offered 5 Lira for a selection of spices advertised at 18 Lira in which he swiftly got the response 'Are you stupid, can you not read the price tag?!' To which Jamie replied 'Yeh, says 5 Lira!' After having a similar conversation with the next 10 stalls we decided to put in a better offer which was reluctantly settled for at 10 Lira. However this didn't stop Jamie returning to all the previous stalls waving the selection of spices at the stall owners shouting out '5 Lira, 5 Lira' much to the amusement of the owners employees who were laughing behind their bosses back with their thumbs up.

Leaving Istanbul was surprisingly easy which brought us past the 'Welcome to Asia' sign, our second continent! The next few weeks would cling us to the Black Sea coastline which on the map was seemingly flat. Predictions of terrain as you might have noticed has not been one of our forte’s throughout the past four months, the most recent of which was to be the worst yet. The first 300 miles of the Black Sea coastline were mixture of 20%+ gradients and a group illness from foolishly drinking the local tap water. We even told one of the locals that his own tap water was fine to drink after he warned us to stick to the bottles. Oops. A three day course of some strong antibiotics, 86 bog rolls later we were on the mend and the little man that had been constantly doing back flips in our stomach was dispelled.


Now with our group being a 5 man team, the amount of hospitality that we receive is understandably less than if you were a solo bike tourer but every now and then we meet a mission saint that is willing to bring in 5 scabby looking vagabikers. In Turkey this came in the form of Ozer and Aras who found us cooking dinner on a rocky outcrop by the sea. One hour later we were beer in hand sitting in their flat chilling out after a hard day on the bike. Cheers lads!

Once we left the warmth and shelter of Aras’s flat the weather started to take a turn for the worst and we were in for our 1st dose of rain for over 5 weeks. With a storm on the Black Sea horizon we turned our thoughts to finding some decent shelter for the night, instead of being confined to the tents as soon as we stopped. We soon came across 2 abandoned beach huts which looked to be part of a restaurant, so we were quick to jump in too avoid the brewing storm. Three hours later after we had made ourselves at home, a car pulled up. Quickly realizing that the huts are in fact not abandoned and getting quite worried at the fact that 4 men just jumped out of the car we had no choice but too pull out our trump card…The magic letter (a letter explaining our trip in the language of the country we are in). This seemed to do just the trick and the guys welcomed us with open arms and even gave us a huge double airbed and a load of fresh fish cooked on their BBQ.

After around 10 days of brutal hills and illness, to say we were excited to reach the city of Samsun and the ever elusive flat road would be an understatement. In our eagerness to get to Georgia and apply for our Azerbaijan visa, we rode 380 miles in 4 days to get to Batumi beach. Batumi is a city with a lot of brand new swanky hotels but not a lot of people filling them. We capitalized on this situation by treating ourselves to a spa day at the Radisson Blu hotel…free of charge. Shorts on underneath our jeans, a confident greeting to the hotel security and a fake room number later, we were all laid in the spa’s relaxation room sipping our complimentary drinks trying to decide whether we should use the sauna first or the steam room.

Three working days and 210 Georgian Lari later we had secured our Azeri visa and were off to cross the lower Caucasian mountains which we had been warned will take us over 2000m high on an unpaved dirt road. Sure enough 2025 vertical meters, 1 snapped chain and 30 miles of uphill, unpaved road later we were at the top of the pass. The temperature at the top was considerably lower and we were kindly given a full bottle of vodka by a worker to warm us up. We swiftly drank the vodka which after 4 hours of hard climbing on little water, went straight to our heads, only adding to the fun of the long descent ahead of us.

Once the mountains had been conquered we headed into the Georgian capital of Tbilisi for a few days R&R before riding the final 400 miles to Baku. The journey from Tbilisi to Baku was an interesting one to say the least. There is only one main road which takes you through the flat plains; therefore there is a good amount of traffic. This is something we are used to; however we certainly were not used to the absolute outrageousness of the Azeri drivers, who made the 5 lane Istanbul motorway seem extremely safe. The Azerbaijan road builders don’t seem to get the concept of a simple fly over; instead every couple of miles there is a break in the central reservation. This allows cars going one way down the 110km/h dual carriageway to just switch to the other side and proceed to drive along the wrong side of the road, usually on the outer edge of the road right where we were cycling.

Not too mention the fact that 90% of the drivers find it necessary to beep their very loud horns when they are right behind. One guy even thought it a good idea to pull up next to us and whilst maintaining the same speed as us hold his hand down on the horn, deafening us whilst his passenger hangs out the window waving with a big smile on his face. Although this was meant to be a friendly gesture from the jolly chaps, they were met with a rain of abuse and sent off up the road looking rather confused.

These crazy drivers coupled with a strong headwind made for a very tough 4 days riding. The final night before making it to Baku we rode into a small town after 96 miles into a headwind and were taken pity on by some locals who invited us to sleep in the community’s cay (tea) house and allowed us to use their cooking stoves to make our diner. The next day we finally made it to the city of Baku after exactly 4 months on the road. We are extremely happy to have made it here for a well earned rest and to prepare for our winter assault.

We would just like to thank a few people who will be mentioned also in the next blog for all their help and support in Baku. Paul and Maria, thank you for looking after us and cooking us a superb Sunday Dinner we have all been craving for since we set off and your ever ending help during our stay! Thank you to DJ Dave Lawson for the large donation to charity that will be a huge help in reaching our target! Keep on working on your mixing skills Dave. Thanks to all the rest of the lads in Jimmy’s bar for donating money and obviously Jimmy for supplying a top English breakfast and a mad night out. Thanks to AMEC for treating us to 6 days of ‘Business lunch’ and thanks to Akshay for taking us for a top Azerbaijan Kebab. Most of all a huge thank you to Andy and Linda Bliss for letting us crash in their apartment for the duration of our stay in Baku! Absolute legends, we can’t thank them enough!

'The barks worse than the bite'

So after waving our mates off to Budapest airport after what was a busy few days it became apparant we had to get back on our bikes. Our next scheduled "rest" was to be on Sunny Beach in Bulgaria in two weeks time, where Luke and Sams birds were coming out to play dominos. Unfortunatly for the two lads they had to go through Serbia, Romania and a good chunk of Bulgaria before they could catch up on snuggly wugglys.

We have become well trained in the art of leaving big cities, but always seem to meet the local police and Budapest was no different. Apparantly it wasn't safe for five lads to fly down a Hungarian motorway (for reasons unknown to us) but in the end, after several map checks and a McDonalds we managed to escape. We had heard stories about the 'aggressive' Romanian strays which roam around in packs like blood thirsty wolves, and had even met some French lads earlier in the trip that had huge sticks strapped to their bike incase they came face to face with these rabid ridden muts. On hearing this credible intel we took oursleves to a local DIY shop to get 'tooled up'. Stephen, Luke and Sams weapon of choice was a snapped metal broom handle attached to the rear right pannier for rapid extraction. Tom went a bit more conventional with a sharpened stick and Jamie the non-aggressive pacifist of the group used an electronic 'dazzer' which sends out a high pitched noise. We had warned him that he would be struggling for defence if we encountered any deaf dogs, but he was lucky we never encountered the 'pissed off' deaf dog.

Entering Romania we had practiced and rehearsed our drills for the almost certain stray dog attacks, the 5th man on the road was said to be in "death zone one" and the 1st man was the eyes of the outfit. We have never encountered more timid, shy, scared dogs in our entire lives, if you were to walk up to one it would set off at a rapid pace in the opposite direction! The problem (if we can say that) were pet dogs, who werent scared of human contact. Ocassionaly we found oursleves in a wild west kind of stand of with the more macho dogs, but we found that stopping the bike and shouting seemed to do the trick.

We had planned our route to follow the picturesque river Danube for aslong as possible, for the good scenery and ample camping and washing capabilities. We joined the Danube early in Romania and managed to stay with it for a week or so. A word of warning is required here for all you mozzy haters, the Danubian mosquitos are not the be laughed at. Stephen took 13 bites to his arse that were itchy enough to keep him awake all night begging for relief that never came. Apart from the occasional section of unpaved road it is a route we reccommend to all you cycle tourers. Romania seems to be a country where anything goes. From 80 year old women pulling trees along the road, 30 stone men being pulled along by little donkeys and main roads that look like they have been hit with mortar fire. The locals don't seem to understand the dangers of potholes and fast driving after watching one unfortunate man blow his tyre up after hitting one at 40, it would seem they are used to the occasioanl blow out as he was faster at changing his wheel than Lewis Hamiltons chief mechanic. Saying that Romania is one of the friendliest places we have been to so far. The kids run out to the road to give you high fives and the old men applaud as you pass the local pub. Romania really is an up and coming hidden gem that more people should see.

In order to keep ourslelves as close to the Danube as possible we crossed the border into Serbia, a country none of us had been to or had planned to go into. Our memories of Serbia are somewhat slim as we only stayed there one night. By now we were getting itchy feet to arrive at Sunny Beach as our alcohol consumption was at an all time low. Crossing into Bulgaria from Romania took us over the Danube on a rather large bridge. As usual the border sprint was carnage, a 'welcome to Bulgaria' sign mixed with a down hill finish meant Tom nearly tail-whipped his sherpa whilst going head to head with Sam for the border sign. Fortunatley we all crossed in one piece and were ready to put some miles in to get to Sunny Beach. The difference between the Romanian and Bulgarian town was alot more than we thought. In Bulgaria there was a brand new shopping mall complete with games arcade and cinema. This was the first time we had really felt out of place when buying food in our scruffy vests and porno cycling shorts, we must have been scruffy looking as the security guard even moved us on when we tried to have some dinner outside. The route to sunny beach looked relatively flat, so flat infact that Luke had declared if we went over a climb a mile long he would do a 6-foot belly flop.... He would be flopping in Sunny Beach!

Sunny Beach can pretty much be described as an up and coming Benidorm, where free shot vouchers come as standard with night club entry and drinking to excess is encouraged. Not that we would be taking part in such a disgraceful culture.....
Sam and Luke were wining and dining there other halves at the local restaurants after a long spell of being apart whilst eight nights on the bounce by Stephen, Jamie and Tom produced some of the worst hangovers known to man. Including some pretty weird hallucinations from cheap vodka. It could be said that Stephen, Jamie and Tom were more creepy than Edward Hill on chat roulette at 4am after a night out in Newcastle. We would personally like to thank the girls for participating in this event and helping three 21 year old lads keep their testosterone under legal levels. Thankyou. P.S. 'Keep it gangsta dog, keep it gangsta.. I wanna thank you all, I wanna thank ya'.

We now found ourselves back on the road on our way to Istanbul, after leaving Sunny Beach behind we knew it was time to put some good miles down and get back to what were used to doing. Riding 50-80 miles all day, everyday. Riding into Turkey meant tackling a 5 mile climb up to the border crossing point and buying our first visa for our passports. We had heard that cycle touring in Turkey was supposed to be great, with such good hospitality and we havn't been dissapointed. All the locals offer you enough Cay (Tea) to sink a battle ship. Occasionally we found ourselves short of a place to sleep, but the locals never minded us pitching up on their ground. We had been warned that riding into Istanbul would be a nightmare, and it was. This didn't stop us flying down a four laned motorway at 50 mph though, with Stephen taking the speed record at 51.8 mph. We can only imagine the look on the drivers face as 5 lads on 40kg bikes came flying into their rear view mirrors! So again, we've made it alive to our biggest city yet, Istanbul to meet Sams family.

As usual we have people to thank; Dale how could we not put you in the blog? The crazy manc that we met in sunny beach who knew the price of everything. A real 'top' lad who would do anything for anyone, dont forget we shall be visting Manchester on our return home so be prepared. Also a big thanks to the GF's for bringing out some much needed gear that clogged up their suitcases more than they already were on the flight over. Oh yeh, and thanks Amber for plucking Mac's eyebrows to pristine condition, one of the few absoloute essential requirements that a bike tourer needs for a world trip.

Look out for our next blog shortly and dont forget to check out our website: www.mission-oz.co.uk and our Facebook and Twitter pages for photos and videos.

P.S- We hope to revamp the website in Baku to make it more up to date with more pictures and videos for all you none facebookers so keep an eye out!

Eastern Europe- The Mo is on Farrah/ Buda whaaaat!

It's finally sunk in that we are actually taking our bicycles from a small town in the north of England around planet Earth, or has it? Only time will tell.

Since our last blog we have weaved our way around eastern Europe through Germany, Czech Republic, Poland, Slovakia and finally here in Hungary totalling a distance that's just tips over 2000 miles.

Leaving Germany and Klaus' penthouse apartment we set off FTD (fresh to death). With our topographical knowledge of Germany at a minimum we had naively considered The country flat. However the route we decided to take was more up and down than a hookers knickers.

Arriving in Nuremberg we hooked up with Rich Husband (yes that is his name). After what can only be described as a heavy one in Nuremberg, Jamie and Stephen decided to take the advice of one of the locals as to which tube to take home. Being adamant they were on the right train, they were proved wrong when the train ended at the last stop which happened to be Nuremberg airport and at least an hour away from Rich's house. Long after the sun had came up and people were starting their morning commute to work Rich was rudely awakened by two clowns after a failed 6 story key drop by Luke Rock. In response the wrath of Rich Husband was felt which sent Jamie and Stephen skimpering up the stairs like little schoolboys (Sorry Rich!).

Our next destination was the big CZ, home to the nicest beer and girls in the world, ah yeeessss. This brought is to a tour of the Pilsner Urquell brewery where we tried the unpasturised unfiltered version of the beer, ah yeeessss.

Surviving on less than 4 quid a day each we cracked onto Prague where we heard the exquisite 17th century artwork was on exhibition at the citys gallery. Okay that's a lie we spent the next two days either hungover or getting bobaldy (our strange word for drunk) on a bar crawl and then with Louis, Joey and Debs. On this particular occasion the night was made particularly heavier with a £50 cash injection by the legend that is Jonny Blackburn, with strict instructions to spend it only on Jagerbombs. 22 J-Bombs later we had all taken up the trademark Mo Farrah ''Mobot" (see pictures). It was fair to say that none of the locals had a clue what we were doing all night.

Riding hungover on the bike has now become a normality however the sheer mental stress of these ordeals is enough to turn Peter Doherty sober at the thought.

Back on the bike it was about to take a serious turn as we were heading towards Poland to see Aushwitz. For us all it was a real eye opener as too what went on in the second world war and an extremely worthwhile experience and would highly recommend a visit.

We then headed 40 miles east towards another major city being Krakow which was a flying visit however we still managed to see the sites which were extremely nice and get ourselves on a highly unorthodox tram party! When heading out of Krakow over some gruelling climbs we found ourselves indulging in the local cuisine where we were questioned by the waiter for ordering 9 main meals between the 5 of us, the conclusion was the food was in our words 'bouncing'!

With the mercury on the thermometer rising it was time for 'Mission Buda' where we were to meet the boys from back home for a long over due reunion. This brings us to where we are now having landed on our feet once again tapping this blog out in a deluxe apartment slap bang in the centre of Budapest. The ride inbetween traversing through Slovakia can only be described as gruelling, mountainous, sweaty, mosquitoey and smelly. However it's these adversities that make the luxuries most people would consider standard, seem out of this world.

UPDATE (Post Budapest): Whilst we realise that this blog makes the Mission Oz team look like borderline alcoholics we have to admit that Budapest fits into this category. I mean, twelve hyperactive northern monkeys with energy levels that would burn off endless Duracell bunnies can only end one way. However the relaxing Turkish baths were a well appreciated respite with Jamie going that little bit more luxurious with a full body massage enticingly advertised on the leaflet given to us. However the huge smile from cheek to cheek was abruptly wiped off his face when a 6ft 5', 20 stone Turkish giant of a man was the masseuse that was to administer Jamie the full body rub down. The straight face turned to one of pure fright when the giant proceeded to take his top off before he slapped the oil on
Jamie's legs and began to give what felt like a deep tissue sports massage with his spade like hands. Unlucky lad.

With Budapest a well appreciated respite from life on the road and a chance to meet our best mates from home it's now time to leave Hungary and into Romania! AH YEESSSSS

Once again we do our best to thank everyone along the way for there generosity and hospitality so thanks to Rich Husband for allowing us to flood your flat with 5 over excited vagabikers, Rona for the generous contribution in Krakow, John Blackburn for reasons that need no explaining and Brownie's dad (one of the boys) for treating us all to the apartments in Buda, legend.

Five lunatics, two dodgy knees and 'Bradley 'effin Wiggins

Okay so here we are, our third blog with a month of the mission gone and its flown by faster than Bradley Wiggins on speed.

Sat here typing this were finding it hard to believe we've gone from experiencing more rain than the Indian monsoon season to fending off hoards of biting mosquitoes around camp after a sweaty 50 miles hard cycling. This is because we're currently at Nick's penthouse apartment on the French/German border complete with a Sauna, Swimming pool and so much food being consumed that it'd make Rik Waller wince, therefore its hard not to feel like Lord Farquaad of the manor as we gaze over the local hills whilst tucking into a bratwurst sandwich
As most of you will know the Mission Oz team ran into a bit of trouble in the form of 'dodgy knees' which decided to stop Luke and Ste in their tracks. As Jamie, Mac and Sam took the ferry across the channel with Paris in their sights the 'B-Team' i.e Luke and Ste stayed in Ashford in Kent to recieve Physiotherapy treatment from some extremely kind physio's at a huge discount.

*A-Team Perspective*
Meanwhile the A-team were in pursuit to watch the one, the only, Bradley Wiggins compete in the final Time Trial of the Tour de France near Paris. With time on our hands and Bastille day approaching we thought the obvious solution was to 'get on it' with the French for their national celebrations. With our one and only set of going out clothes (the one bomb) waiting for us at the bottom of our panniers we booked into a B+B, sank a few Biere Speciales and headed into the local town with our appearances socially intact after a clean shower and shave. One hour and four laps of the town later it was like a wild west scene with nothing but a lone tumble weed rolling slowly across the town square. Turns out we were one day late for the Bastille day shenanigans. Kebab and bed before midnight it was!

Cracking onto Chartres near Paris we experienced our first rainless day of the mission, yeeeehaarrrrr. So with our gore-tex jackets gladly stuffed back in our panniers we arrived at the local municipal campsite in Chartres meeting up with Jamie's folks. With time to kill we embraced ourselves in some 'missionary down time' whilst we waited for the B-team who were still playing around with knee straps and hot water bottles.

*B-Team perspective*
Right so apparantly we arethe "B Team" and the others are the "A Team" In our opinion the 'A' in team should stand for audacious! Now lets not get personal about it but we dont like jealous people. Its just unfortunate that the "A Team" didnt recieve 1st class physio treatment from Amy and Eve (cheers girls), or the fact that they had to cram themselves into a tent whilst we had ample amounts of space. Enough to swing a cat as the saying goes... Or is it the fact that we won the rock, paper, scissors championships for the speaker?? Or was it the fact that they bought a s**t map of france and hence decided to zig-zag there way from Calais to Chartres haha. Just as a final point, as if the other four points werent damming enough we stumbked upon a barn party! It just so happens that it was the same night they tucked themselves into bed after a failed bastille day party attempt. Congratulations to Charl and Naomi on there engagement, and thank you for the constant supply of champagne and biere from 'Patey Boissons'. We will hold you to your promise of a party on the way home! Anyway enough of the banterous arguments the boys are all back together and morale is as high as ever.

After the amalgamation in Chartres our lives were now focused on one name. You guessed, it Bradley Wiggins. Being avid Mr. Wiggins fans after following him on previous Tour de France visits we couldn't possibly miss this opportunity to see him be the first Brit to don the yellow jersey on the champs elysees in its 109 year history. To see him win the time-trial sent us into a state which can only be likened to the film 'football factory' with various chants and cheering annoying many a french citizen. This was all the day after we had been drinking with a bunch of crazy brummies who, although they didn't take part in the drunken chants about Bradley on our walk back to the campsite, were happy to push Ste (TinTin) naked in a shopping trolley along the road after a dispute with a nightclub bouncer who used the unorthodox bucket water over head tactic to dispell his savage victim. The following day brought cheshire cat-like smiles to our faces after an awesome photo was taken with the team and Bradley before the final run into Paris. If it couldnt get any better tears were brought to our faces as we sang the national anthem at ear piercing volume along with the massive following of Brits all watching Bradley on the podium. Absoloute icing on the cake. Luke who was sporting Bradley like sideboards carefully groomed for weeks in the run up to Paris quotes 'Bradley Wiggins is without question the greatest sportsman ever to grace the universe'. He even admitted after his displeased response to being woke up he had dreamed that he and Bradley had dined together (in dinner suits wearing matching bow ties) with Luke whispering 'sweet nothings' into his ear! It was also nice to meet Steve Brady and Russ Barrow along the tour route who treated us to a restaurant meal and plenty of beers. Two diamond geezers!

After the hype of Bradley and Paris it was time to head east towards Prague. With a five day heat wave blasting over the country it was our first taste of proper sun. This forced us to look for fresh streams to wash off the hundrends (literally) of tiny harvest flies clinging to our sweat soaked bodies. This culminated in a thunderstorm that zeus himself would have shit himself at (videos to come). Cracking on we ticked off our 1000th mile which shortly delievered us to our present location. On the final day to the border tensions were high in the last 5km with the greatly sought after Germany sign which provides bags of braggin rights. But the sign never came and after a destroying the last bit of energy that our legs had to give we soon learnt that a Germany sign didn't exist. Gutted.


We'd also like to take this opportunity to thanks the following people for their outstanding hospitality and generosity. Amy and Eve, top class physio's. Charl, Naomi and the other mad hatters at the barn dance. Jamie's Ma and Pa, thanks for the food! Steve and Russ- Legends. 'The Brummies', unbelievable banter. Nick (another one of Don Richardson's mafia friends) you're a hero. Klaus, thanks for the hospitality, you're house is amazing aswell as your bar!

Finally, a big thanks for all the donations so far and for following our progress. To donate go to www.virginmoneygiving.com

Thanks

The team

English leg

First of all, we would all like to say a massive thank you to all our family and friends who came to the fox covert to see us off. Your support is hugely appreciated.

The main focus of our first blog is to say thank you to everyone for looking after us during our first leg, being England. Also to highlight the extreme arrogance of thinking we didn't require any prior training before setting off on an around the world cycle ride.

As you all probably know it hasn't been the sunniest of weeks, to that end we didn't manage to make It through a full day without getting wet. However spirits remained high and we still managed to score a prime steak in a bun at the east Rounton village barbecue. So many thanks to the people of east Rounton who warmly invited us in and let Ste do what he does best....TALK. After giving the villagers a politician like speech we started to bang in the miles. We cracked 60 odd miles on our first day and eventually made it to the town of Tadcaster famous for the John and Sam Smith brewery's. So it goes without saying we did what we do best and sampled the local ales.

We rose the next day with moderately sore legs un aware of the day we were about to embark on. The target for the day was to make it to Sheffield to see our dear friend Jordan Langton aka 'the douchebag'. From whom we had been promised hot showers, big scran and comfy bed each in his new pad. So we hit the road and immediately hit what was to be the hardest day of riding of the first week. Main components of this difficult day were 50 miles of hills with our heavily laden bikes and heavy rain all day. We eventually made it into Sheffield to the douchebags at which we ate our body weight in delicious food he made for us and re-administered ourselves ready for the next day of riding. We would all like to say a huge thank you to Jordan for taking us in and looking after us on such a bleak day. Top man!

Again we cracked on, nothing substantial happened the next day and we made camp in a farmers field after another day of 50 and woke the next morning sore which seemed to be the trending pattern for the first week. We cycled ten miles into another famous town.... Melton Mowbray. For breakfast we had a pie eating competition of which a video will follow. The standings were 1st- Jamie Davison, 2nd- Thomas Mcpartland, 3rd- Sam Richardson, 4th- Luke Rock. Later on that day we stopped at a sainsburys for some tea. Jamie bought himself some beef jerky, he obviously thought it didn't have quite the taste he was after. So he decided to use the packet of silica powder to season it, as we all know the silica powder is use to keep the moisture out of the meat and is toxic and should never be consumed, evidently jamie didnt realise this and ignored the clear 'do not eat' bold lettering on the packet instead he thought it would make as a a good substitute for pepper. That night we camped in a kind woman's garden, which we shared with her pet goose and her dogs. We also had our first test run of the whisperlite stove and a kit review video will follow.

The next morning we woke up to two surprises. The first, mac showering naked under the woman's garden hose. Then a phone call from Chris Richardson himself telling us he had a great friend who lived 20 miles from London near St. Albans who would be happy to put us up for the night. We cycled hard all day In the blazing sunshine interrupted a few times with a little bit of our good friend Ronald rain. We stopped Just shy of letty green In Wellwyn Garden City for some late lunch before the last three miles to Dave and Jens. We pulled into the gorgeous estate where they live which is inside the polo clubs grounds. Jen pulled in shortly behind us with bags of food and drink for a barbecue they had planned for us. So again we did what we do best and sank a few beers, a few bottles of wine and a delicious barbecue put on by Jen and Dave. We had a great night with them. Lots of laughs and Ste bit off a bit more than he could chew receiving a massage from Jens physio friend Susie for his sore knee. So another huge thankyou to Dave and Jen Burns, we had a brilliant night.

The next morning we woke up to a rainstorm, we had some breakfast croissants and coffee, watched the news and weather, this told us about more rain all day. Jen told us about a sneaky cycle path which would take us all the way into London running along a canal. We packed up, left and took the advice. We rode about ten miles on the cole green way cycle route, however it didn't look like we had been cycling, it looked like we had been mud wrestling with our bikes in a swamp. We consulted the map and realised at Jens and Daves by road we were 22 miles from London. once we had wrestled through the swamp for ten miles we were still 22 miles from London. We thought it may be more productive to get on a tarmac road and bang in some fast miles cause we were all eager to get to London apart from Luke, he wanted to stay on the dirt track and play mountain biking with his 60kg touring bike. Once we got to London, we were met by a huge dish of pasta cooked previously by Joe Richardson, Sams brother which was spot on. Joe and Rosie (Sams aunty) soon followed with gifts. Joe brought beers and Rosie brought enough Clinique products to last the whole mission. Needless to say Mac was over the moon. We all got ready and went out on Shoreditch high street. We met the Davison tribe including Jamie, Patrick (big Pod), Chris and Phil. So they were out in force. Phil aka Donald Trump got us a table in a club with a 300 pound bottle of grey goose sitting on it which was the size of Ste. The next morning we made a trip to the Breakfast Club to try and cure our hangovers. Later we went back out drinking, surprise surprise. We went to a Thai restaurant called Busabi and then met our old friend Evan Herbert for a few shandies. We decided to stay an extra few nights and we have decided to set off tomorrow mid day to head towards the continent in search of the elusive sun.