TEAM XTREME: Calf Muscle sharpening in Croatia

So I was getting to the end of my unbearable holidays. I returned to France after the Alaskan trip and enjoyed two weeks of solid family time, catch up conversations, good food, time with the little ones, which proved to be very regenerating.
But my calf muscles were not getting anything out of all the cheese and delicious meat I was ingesting. More and more frustrated, they started to bother my dreams, penetrate my thoughts, turning my life into a restless exitless mare. I faced the issue and borrowed my parents car to hit the road and visit friends in the alps (yes I visited Frank who has remained an accurate version of himself. We even went boating) southern part of France and Italy, where my cal muscle ordeal was to find an end.
In Trieste, I met Angus, and quickly after a few vinos in town, a plan was set, gear, good mood and refined conversations were packed. We were going for a few days of cyclo-touring in Istria, Croatia

The weather forecast was saying poos and wees, but having brought enlightenment and luck with us, we care for none of that. Instead we enjoyed warm windless autumnal days.
Here Angus enjoying Gothic remains under the protective shade of an old-friend-oak.

The first day consisted in cruising gently through colourful windy roads on the hillside, crossing small villages full of character

Nights camping in the country were interesting with nosy noisy dogs giving us personal serenades more than once a night. It is good to know that farmers start their day at 5am in the dark and sing alone for their animals in the paddocks in Croatia. That also helps with sleep. Here Gus's freeby bike front break's cable decided to dislodge itself, which inevitably forced him into a straighter trajectory that wanted in the following turn. I was struggling to not piss my pants when recording the moment.

in Labin, enjoying a monster lunch under the impressive ruins of the roman coliseum.

Reaching the more touristy shore, we follow coastal tracks for some time.

Cute colourful villages refurbished for the German tourists.

Limsky Fjord

Looking for campsites in the dark darkness

Last day, on our way out of Istria, at the step of the finally climb to the border. Determined not to take the risk to take booze with us through the border we agree to part with our bottle o rum in the most honourable manner. After finding a romantic location (you would have recognized a building site, that even had a smoky fire), we do what we have to do.

Things are a little harder than before on the bike after this interlude, more particularly when Gus tries to find his passport at the border and drops both his wallet and bike before displaying a barely excusing smile on his face...

We return Trieste and quickly apply firm discipline to our lives by keeping it moving as timely and effectively as possible on our way to the first apero bar, then resto, then other bar...anyway we return victorious and singing.
The next morning see me with a lot of road to do to Switzerland and a schedule to keep to, but no car keys....
After two hours of fucking around making plans, Gus took over my brain and put it right. The keys were found where they were last put and joy comes back to my life.