Tom's travel blog
595m, the Slieve League rises directly from the sea and is considered the highest cliff in Ireland. The inhabitants of Achill Island claim the Croaghaun to be the highest cliff in Europe. And that lies in Ireland as well. Oops! The Croaghaun with 664m is actually 69m higher than Slieve League. The latter is better . . .
Croagh Patrick Legend has it that in the 4th century Saint Patrick (in Irish: Padraig) climbed the mountain named after him today, took neither water nor bread there and then banished the snakes from Ireland. Legends mostly have a true core, but it is often quite small. Just as today’s research assumes that the figure . . .
After a mosquito-rich and cool night we quickly dismantle our tent to drive to the Connemara National Park Visitor Centre. According to the weather forecast, the morning is supposed to be dry before an extensive rain area comes in at noon and dilutes the rest of the day. That’s enough for a short tour up . . .
“No water to drown, no tree to hang, no earth to bury.” one of Oliver Cromwells military commanders Oliver Cromwell’s characterization of the Burren is clearly military. The exclusive view of the possibilities of killing obscures – as always – the view of life, which the supposed wasteland of the karst landscape offers in astonishing . . .
The Gap of Dunloe, a narrow mountain pass between the Macgillycuddys Reeks and the Purple Mountains, has been highly recommended as a hiking destination by our hosts. Not a long tour, but it should be beautiful. A picture of the valley of the Loe, formed by glaciers and leading up to the pass, is also . . .
The day before yesterday the weather forecast promised seven hours of sunshine for today, yesterday three hours and this morning it’s raining. Chance of precipitation for the whole day: 80%! We had set our sights on the most beautiful day of the week to climb the highest mountain in Ireland, the Carrauntoohil (pronounced “Carauntool”). With . . .
Muckross Lake and Torc Mountain Four days we are already in Ireland. Of course I was tempted to report about it. E.g. about the Guiness Store House in Dublin, the biggest walk-in commercial of Dublin, for which you have to pay money – and whose visit is worth it anyway – or from Glendalough, the . . .
I sleep in a 1000 stars hotel! When I wake up at night, the Big Dipper is right above me. And above all there is an intoxicating silence. The dancing-in-the-may-rouble that has gripped the surrounding villages doesn’t get up to here. With the coming of dawn I wake up the next time. The stars have . . .
Towards the end of the 19th century, the Vennbahn was built and connected the industrial centres of Aachen-Rothe Erde and Luxembourg. Coal from the Aachen coal mining area was transported to Luxembourg, and in the other direction Luxembourg iron ore was brought to Aachen and Eschweiler for smelting. In addition, the railway opened up the . . .
The Vennbahn is one of the longest railroad bike paths in Europe. Around 125 km between Aachen and Troisvierges is developed as a “greenway” – “greenway” or “voie verte” means car-free paths and tracks throughout Europe. For a long time I wanted to cycle this way, which leads from Germany through Belgium to Luxembourg and . . .
In 2016 Uta and I were on the road on the Eurovelo 4. I am in the process of documenting this tour. This will happen bit by bit, but the beginning is done. You can find the tour here: EuroVelo 4: Brittany and Normandy For my subscribers: Since these are not blog posts, there are . . .
Es ist schon länger her, dass Uta und ich ein Stück auf dem Rheinradweg – dem EuroVelo 15 – gefahren sind. Ich habe dazu auch ein paar Seiten erstellt, die unter dem Menüpunkt “Rad” zu finden sind. Da das vor meiner Blog-Zeit war, tauchen sie hier natürlich nicht auf. Und leider auch nicht in den . . .
On January 9, I will hold a presentation about my journey on the EuroVelo 9 at the ADFC in Bonn. Place and time will be announced on the ADFC homepage (and here of course). To whet your appetite, here’s a teaser:
There are even three reasons against a current blogging on a hut hike in autumn: First of all, it’s the extra weight for my small notebook. Even if it’s only one kilo, it’s much heavier on your back than on your bike. Then there is rarely WLAN on the huts anyway (even mobile phone reception . . .
The countries What remains after such a journey? Sorting the impressions in such a way that they don’t appear here like herbs and turnips is not so easy. I’ll start with the countries. First of all: all of them were worth it, none of them disappointed me. At most, it is difficult to find the . . .
The Istrian coastal road, which I tried to avoid by taking a detour via Parenzana, finally got me under control. But there is simply no other reasonable connection from Rovinj to Pula. Unless you drive at least one and a half times the distance and over ” whiteroads ” – a euphemism for the gravel . . .
On the cycle path 171 I ride on firm gravel first past olive groves, later through shady and cool oak forests. Only at the beginning there is a view to the Limski Canal, a 10 km long estuary, which the river Pazinčica created on its way to the Adriatic in a few million years. After . . .
In the morning mist lies over the valleys, while Grožnjan is still dozing in the sun. Yesterday’s article I already mentioned Parenzana, I can hardly repeat that today. Thereby I continue on the old railway line, the way requires permanent attention because of the surface – more or less hard gravel – but because it . . .
In the night there is a thunderstorm. Above the karst the lightning flashes and thunder comes from Portoroz – about 120 per second. Luckily I am an experienced Ohropax sleeper by now! 🙂 After a few kilometres along the sea I am at the border. But what is that? Border controls! Both when leaving Slovenia . . .
Actually it is not far anymore. I probably overestimated the rest of the way and my plane doesn’t leave Pula until Thursday. So I still have a lot of time. And I take it in the morning so that the sun has a chance to take the wet night from the tent before I pack . . .
