But the journey — the deeper one, the one that defines a life spent traveling by bicycle — continues. It loops and braids through entirely different cultures and geographies, without ever losing its center. These are not merely routes; they are narratives. And they deserve to be linked — not only for readers hungry for their next ride, but also for the organic traffic that finds its way to my site through shared search intent and thematic continuity.

Let me take you further now, to six destinations that appear distinct on the map but are bound by the same spirit: South Korea, Hokkaido, Bali, Andalucia, Taiwan, and Tuscany & Umbria.

South Korea: The Border, the Coast, and the Spine

South Korea’s Seoul-to-Busan and back to Seoul loop, via the borderlands and Baekdudaegan range, is a lesson in contrast. Here, a cyclist starts in a high-tech metropolis only to follow a thread of riverside bike paths into villages still anchored in old rhythms. The ride north skirts the fringes of geopolitics — few places are so safe and yet so charged as the area near the DMZ — before turning south along the East Sea. Fishing harbors, seafood markets, and quiet Buddhist temples line this coast.

The inland return is a test of legs and resolve. The Baekdudaegan is Korea’s spiritual and geological spine. Climbing here isn’t just about elevation gain; it’s about entering a dialogue with the country’s deeper self. For cyclists, it’s both revelation and reward.

Hokkaido: Japan’s Northern Frontier

Hokkaido is Japan, but not as you think you know it. The roads are long, empty, and open, cutting through volcanic landscapes and highland plateaus. Here, you chase light — early sunrises, long dusks, and sudden mists over caldera lakes. The “Northern Frontier” isn’t a boast; it’s a way of being. The foxes are real. So are the steaming onsens and soft-serve stands at the top of improbable climbs.

Cycling Hokkaido is about immersion in nature at its grandest scale. And yet the infrastructure — from road quality to campgrounds to local hospitality — is quietly excellent. The contrast between raw landscape and seamless human support is uniquely Japanese. Hokkaido is the perfect counterpoint to urban Japan, and the best introduction to its wilder cycling possibilities.

Bali: The Island of Gods (and Gears)

You wouldn’t think to come to Bali for a climbing tour — and yet, here you are. The island’s volcanic backbone offers a serious challenge, from Mount Batur’s rim to the misty climbs near Munduk. But the magic is in the descent: winding roads that drop through rice terraces and jungle, past temples and gamelan rehearsals. The phrase “climbing and freewheeling in paradise” isn’t marketing fluff — it’s a literal truth on two wheels.

But it’s not that simple! It’s a small island, but which way to ride?

What sets Bali apart is its synesthetic quality. You don’t just see the landscape; you hear and smell it. The scent of clove cigarettes, the sound of chanting, the sudden cool of rain on a banana leaf — they’re all part of the ride. This guidebook is as much about cultural immersion as route-finding, and for good reason.

Andalucia: Roundabout the South of Spain

To ride Andalucia is to orbit passion — the deep, historical kind. Through the provinces of Malaga, Cadiz, and Seville, the road takes on a rolling cadence of whitewashed villages, sunflower plains, and serrated sierras. There’s a visceral quality to these rides: the taste of salmorejo after a long day, the echo of flamenco in a tiled courtyard, the long shadow of a castle ruin on golden hills.

Here, cycling is less about distance and more about texture. The quality of light. The slow afternoon lull of a pueblo. The tangle of alleyways in Setenil de las Bodegas. It’s a route for the sensorially attuned, for those who want their kilometers served with a side of story.

Taiwan: Ride to Eat, Eat to Ride

Taiwan’s Cycling Route No. 1 might be the most perfect encapsulation of a national cycling identity. Well-signed, well-supported, and endlessly scenic, this route makes the case for cycling as a national pastime — and as a culinary pilgrimage. Few places offer such a tight loop of mountains, coastlines, and night markets.

“Ride to Eat, Eat to Ride” isn’t my motto; it’s a modus operandi. Every town offers a new dish, every climb a new view. Taiwan’s hospitality — from 7-Eleven’s cyclist-friendly offerings to guesthouse aunties pressing fruit into your hands — makes this circumnavigation feel like a festival of kindness.

Tuscany & Umbria: The Epic and the Intimate

To end in Central Italy is to ride through layers of human history. Chianti’s vineyards, Umbria’s hill towns, and the gravel glory of L’Eroica are not just destinations; they’re time machines. The climbs are punchy, the roads often rough, but the reward is constant. Morning espresso in a medieval square. A slow climb to Montepulciano. Sunset descending into a cypress-lined valley.

Here, cycling becomes almost devotional. These roads have hosted saints and soldiers, painters and pilgrims — and now, perhaps you. The balance of effort and elegance, grit and grace, is unmatched. Go for it ride out!

Why This Matters for the Journey — and for Discovery

This journey across six regions is not a greatest hits compilation; not my intention here — it’s a portfolio of the world’s cycling soul. The practical value is for you, my readers. It lies in the specificity: maps, cultural context, tested routes. But the experiential core is what binds them — each guidebook promises not just a ride, but a way to be in the world. It does not matter how much you ride as long as you ride. Do not over-plan, just go, somewhere, and ride!

The post The Journey Expands: From the Quiet Roads of Asia to the Gravel Climbs of Europe appeared first on Footloose Cycling.

On the Great Ocean Road in Australia, the wind can be a fierce, shifting force—cool off the ocean in the morning, hot and dry from inland by afternoon. I once rode from Port Campbell into a cool January morning, bundled up as if it were autumn. But within an hour, the wind swung north. The road baked. My bottles got warm, and I felt like I was cycling through a blow dryer.

And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered something very similar—except it was colder, wetter, and a great deal funnier.

It was the west coast of Ireland.

Cycling from Achill Island to the Dingle Peninsula, you don’t ride into the wind and rain—you ride with it. Day after day. Relentless, horizontal rain across Counties Mayo, Galway, Clare, and Kerry. The kind of wind that makes you lean sideways to stay upright. Within the first three days I was soaked to the marrow and already contemplating the early bus back to Dublin. But you press on, don’t you?

Then you discover the rhythm of it. The beauty, even.

Because every evening, somewhere along that endless Atlantic fringe, you find a pub. You peel off wet gloves, sit near a radiator or a peat fire, and wrap your hands around a glass of Guinness or a bowl of chowder. The heat creeps back into your body. You hear fiddle music leaking from a corner table. Someone starts to talk about politics, or farming, or how their cousin used to race bicycles in France in the ‘80s. Suddenly, you’re not in the rain anymore. You’re part of something.

I found that again, oddly enough, on the fringes of the Great Ocean Road.

Rolling into the small inland town of Koroit on my way from Warrnambool to Port Fairy, I stopped in front of the old Irish pub. The sign on the wall? Classic Irish absurdism. The menu read:

7-Course Irish Meal: 6 Pints of Guinness and a Potato.
Standard Package: One Pint. Deluxe Package: Double Whiskey.

Next to it, a poster announced:

Husband Day Care Center.
Need time to yourself? Want to go shopping? Leave your husband with us!

I laughed like I hadn’t laughed since County Clare. The absurdity, the wit, the proud irreverence—it all clicked. I was half a world away, and yet I could feel the same warm strain of humor running through the town as I had in Doolin or Dingle. It wasn’t just the Guinness (though there was plenty of that). It was the culture—the attitude that life is hard, often wet, often unfair, so you may as well laugh at it.

Koroit, of course, was settled by Irish immigrants, who looked at the fertile volcanic soil around Tower Hill and figured it was perfect for growing onions and potatoes. Naturally. It made sense to them. I thought of their descendants still farming here, still drinking here, and still quietly shrugging at the absurdity of the weather.

That’s the thing about bicycle travel. The places are different. The weather changes. The languages shift. But there’s a kind of emotional continuity across these far-flung landscapes. In Ireland, it’s in the kindness of strangers who wave from tractors and flag you down to give directions you don’t need. In Australia, it’s in the long, empty stretches where the wind changes everything, and a gas station Gatorade becomes the most important drink of your day.

You don’t always know why you’re riding. You just know you need to. And at some point, it stops being about the map. It becomes about the moments—the wind, the pub, the weird hotel menu that reminds you you’re not just a traveler, you’re part of a global, invisible web of people who think: Yes, this is a perfectly reasonable way to live.

Cycling isn’t efficient. It’s not always fun. But it keeps you honest. You can’t fake your way up a hill into a headwind. You have to earn your shelter. And when you get it, it stays with you.

I’ve written a lot of cycling guides—not only to Ireland, the Great Ocean Road, the South Island of New Zealand, and more to come. They’ll tell you what you need to know: distances, elevation, logistics. But they’ll never quite convey what it feels like to ride these places—the fatigue, the foolishness, and the little flickers of magic that make you say: I hope this journey never ends.

Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? For some of us, cycling isn’t a phase. It’s not even a sport. It’s a way of making sense of the world—one soggy pint and sunburned roadside at a time.

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Known for its stunning natural beauty, rich history, and vibrant culture, Florianópolis, the capital and principal city on the island of Santa Catarina, dubbed Ilha da Magia, offers a diverse range of sights and experiences. From the historical streets of the city to the serene beaches along the city coastline to those all around the island, a ride around this enchanting island reveals countless highlights, whether natural or man-made. Bottom line, the island’s diverse landscapes, from rolling hills and lush forests to sandy beaches and scenic lagoons, provide a stunning backdrop for any avid cyclist.

In my recent post on my last trip to Brazil, I noted my original plan was a little different from what I ended up doing. Just change in plans because of weather. Instead of cycling across the state of Santa Catarina from Florianopolis to Iguazu Falls, I did a 360° bike tour around the Santa Catarina Island. Although the heart of the city is nestled on the west-central tip of the island, and the communities all around the island are separate settlements, they are Floripa’s de facto neighborhoods or referred to as districts. As a result, Ilha da Santa Catarina, the island, is routinely called simply Florianopolis.

Per the GPS composite map of my rides above, here’s a summary of the highlights of this fine destination.

Exploring the Heart of Florianópolis

I started my journey in the city itself, cycling through its bustling streets and around its picturesque coasting. As my first destination, I contemplated to ride up Morro da Cruz, a hill that offers panoramic views of the city and surrounding islands. It is said to offer a breathtaking perspective of Florianópolis’ diverse landscape, from the downtown area to the majestic coastline. But the weather was not cooperating, and so I kept to the streets, pondering to leave the climb for later.

On my first ride, I made my way across the two iconic bridges that connect Floripa to the mainland. Ponte Hercílio Luz (Hercílio Luz Bridge) is one of Brazil’s most famous landmarks. Completed in 1926, this stunning suspension bridge connects the island to the mainland, and its towering structure spans the waters of the Bay of Florianópolis. Cycling across it offered incredible views of the city and the ocean.

I then cycled across Pedro Ivo Campos Bridge, another essential connection between the island and the mainland. While not as visually striking as the Hercílio Luz Bridge, it was an important part of my route, guiding me through Florianópolis and further deepening my appreciation for the island’s infrastructure and beauty.

After crossing the bridges, I stopped at the Mercado Público de Florianópolis (Public Market), an iconic landmark brimming with local flavors and Brazilian culture. The market, housed in a beautiful historic building, is a perfect spot to sample local delicacies like fresh seafood, artisanal products, and traditional Brazilian snacks. It’s also a great place to interact with locals and soak up the island’s vibrant atmosphere.

A short distance away lies Praça XV de Novembro, a lively square surrounded by historical buildings. Dominating the square is the Catedral Metropolitana de Florianópolis Nossa Senhora Do Desterro e Santa Catarina De Alexandria, an impressive Catholic church dating back to 1908. The cathedral, with its twin towers, stained-glass windows, frescoes, and intricate statuary, is a beautiful example of Florianópolis’ architectural heritage. It’s a peaceful spot for reflection amidst the city’s hustle and bustle.

I ended my city exploration at the Álvaro de Carvalho Theater, an elegant 19th-century theater known for its cultural significance. The theater hosts various performances, from concerts to plays, and is a testament to the city’s deep cultural roots.

Cycling North: A Journey Through Charming Coastal Villages

From the city, I pedaled north along the coast, eventually reaching Santo Antonio de Lisboa, a charming historical neighborhood known for its colonial-era architecture and traditional Azorean influence. Here, I stopped to admire the beautiful Igreja Nossa Senhora das Necessidades (Church of Our Lady of Needs), a small yet striking church with a peaceful atmosphere. The surrounding streets are lined with vibrant restaurants, boutiques, and local artisans, making it a perfect place for a leisurely stop.

Further along the coast, I cycled to Praia Do Sambaqui, a quiet and pristine beach that offers stunning views of the ocean and neighboring islands. Its calm waters make it ideal for a peaceful retreat, away from the crowds.

Cycling South: Coastal Beauty and Historic Sites

Heading south, I passed the Florianópolis International Airport (Aeroporto Internacional de Florianópolis – Hercílio Luz), a bustling hub that connects the island to the rest of Brazil. As I cycled toward Ribeirão da Ilha, I was struck by the historic charm of the area. Ribeirão da Ilha is known for its old Portuguese-style houses, traditional oyster farming, and picturesque coastal views.

I visited Igreja Nossa Senhora da Lapa, a beautiful church perched on a hill overlooking the sea. The simple church architecture style, inspired by the traditional architecture from the Azorean archipelago, serene atmosphere and stunning views, made it one of the highlights of my ride through the southern part of the island.

Crossing to the Eastern Side: A Secluded Escape

Next, I crossed over to the eastern side of the island, heading to Morro das Pedras. This quiet, less-visited area is known for its rugged coastline and natural beauty. It’s a peaceful spot to disconnect and enjoy the island’s raw, untamed landscape.

Cycling through Campeche eventually, I arrived at Lagoa da Conceição, a stunning lagoon that became one of the most memorable stops of my journey, alas, not just for the local sights and sounds – it rained non-stop for four days!

Lagoa da Conceição: The Island’s Jewel

Despite the bad weather, Lagoa da Conceição, with its vibrant lagoon, stunning beaches, and breathtaking views, was still the highlight of my entire roundabout bike tour of the island. From the Mirante do Morro da Lagoa da Conceição, I had a bird’s-eye view of the entire area, where the lagoon met the ocean, surrounded by hills and lush vegetation.

I explored the lagoon area on foot, visiting Lagoa Santuário Nossa Senhora da Imaculada Conceição da Lagoa, a charming chapel nestled between the lush vegetation of the hills and the lagoon. The tranquility of the lagoon was the perfect contrast to the lively beaches I would soon visit.

From Lagoa, I cycled to some of the most famous beaches on the island and in all of Brazil, including Mole Beach (Praia Mole) and Praia da Galheta. These beaches are popular with surfers and nature lovers, offering crystal-clear waters, golden sand, and dramatic cliffs.

Continuing north, I visited Barra da Lagoa. This beach offers a relaxed vibe, with calm waters and a welcoming atmosphere.

The Northern Beaches: History and Legends

Cycling further north, I skirted the pristine Praia do Moçambique before reaching Ingleses Beach (Praia dos Ingleses). This beach holds an interesting history: it’s named after the English fishermen who frequented the area in the 19th century, and some of whom presumably settled here. Today, it’s a popular beach with a lively atmosphere, great for swimming, beach volleyball, or simply relaxing in the sun.

Completing the 360° Ride Around the Island

After experiencing the northern beaches, I cycled back, passing Santo Antonio de Lisboa once more and headed back to Florianópolis city. The entire journey around the island was not just a physical challenge but also a deep dive into the culture, nature, and history of this beautiful region.

Why Florianópolis is So Special

Florianópolis is a city with something for everyone. It’s a popular destination for retirees seeking a relaxed pace of life, but it also offers vibrant cultural experiences and breathtaking natural landscapes. With some of the lowest crime rates in Brazil, it’s a safe and welcoming destination, making it a perfect place for travelers of all kinds. That’s all aside being known as one of the hottest party towns in Brazil!

Whether you should cycle around the island, exploring its historical landmarks, or lounging on one of its many beaches, Florianópolis offers a diverse range of experiences that will leave you likely longing to return. I, too, may have to come back, as I never made it back to ride up Morro da Cruz…

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So how about trends in the realm of travel? You might have heard about trends like sustainable tourism, digital detox getaways, or off-the-beaten-path adventures. Here is what overseas destinations are trending in road bike adventure travel in 2023 that will probably carry over into 2024:

Portugal’s Algarve Coast: The Algarve region in southern Portugal has gained popularity among road cyclists. It offers stunning coastal roads with breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean. You can ride through charming fishing villages, explore rugged cliffs, and enjoy a mix of challenging and leisurely routes.

Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast: Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast is a hidden gem for cyclists. The coastal roads offer a perfect blend of challenging climbs and smooth descents. You can explore historic cities like Split and Dubrovnik, as well as numerous islands along the way. But how about Istrian Peninsula?

Slovenia’s Julian Alps: For those seeking a mountainous adventure, Slovenia’s Julian Alps are a paradise. The pristine landscapes, alpine lakes, and challenging ascents make it a dream destination for avid cyclists. Don’t miss out on the famous Vršič Pass, a true test of your cycling skills.

Vietnam’s Ho Chi Minh Trail: If you’re up for an epic, long-distance adventure, consider cycling the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Vietnam. It’s a historic route with a mix of paved and dirt roads, taking you through remote villages and lush jungles. The cultural experience is unparalleled.

Japan’s Shikoku Island: Japan has no shortage of stunning landscapes, and Shikoku Island is no exception. The Shimanami Kaido route takes you across picturesque bridges connecting islands. But you can also immerse yourself in Japanese culture while enjoying beautiful coastal cycling in Kyushu, an island just next door.

Peru’s Sacred Valley: For a high-altitude adventure, head to Peru’s Sacred Valley. Explore ancient Inca ruins, ride along the Urubamba River, and challenge yourself with high-altitude climbs. Machu Picchu is a must-visit along the way.

Sicily, Italy: Italy is a classic destination for cyclists, and Sicily is an underrated gem. You’ll find charming villages, historic sites, and stunning coastal routes. Sicilian cuisine is a bonus treat for your taste buds.

South Island, New Zealand: New Zealand’s South Island offers diverse landscapes, from fjords to glaciers to lush rainforests. The Southern Alps provide challenging climbs, and the scenery is straight out of a postcard.

Colombia’s Coffee Region: Cycling the Coffee Region, with its rolling hills and coffee plantations, offers a unique and immersive experience. And Colombian hospitality is unmatched.

Greece’s Peloponnese Peninsula: Discover ancient history while cycling through Greece’s Peloponnese Peninsula. You’ll encounter archaeological wonders like Olympia and Epidaurus, all while enjoying Mediterranean landscapes.

Well, the above is an incomplete list based on a handful of sources and the order is irrelevant. Destinations such as Italy have always had far more popular regions than just one. Bicycle tours of Tuscany never cease to attract. And if Sicily is trending, so is Sardinia. The same is the case with Spain – how about cycling Andalucia, the very south of Spain, Tenerife, or Basque Country? How about Taiwan’s “Cycling Route 1”, bicycle touring South Korea, and let’s not forget about cycling Australia, for example, cycle touring Victoria.

Frankly, should we pay attention to these trends? Well, it depends on who you are and what you value. Here’s where opinions come into play, and I’m not short on those!

First off, there’s nothing wrong with being trend-conscious, especially when it comes to travel. If a trend aligns with your interests and values, it can be a great source of inspiration. For instance, if you’re an outdoor enthusiast like many cyclists, hikers, and trekkers are, and you hear about a trend promoting eco-friendly hiking trips, that might resonate with your love for nature and adventure. It’s a win-win situation.

However, there’s a danger in blindly following trends just because they’re popular. Remember, that trends are often driven by marketing, social media, and peer pressure. It’s easy to get swept up in the hype and forget what truly matters to you. That’s where the “ignore them and focus on what we feel is best for us to pursue” part comes in.

Trends should be a source of inspiration, not a blueprint for your cycling life or travels. Consider them, but don’t let them dictate your choices. Trust your instincts, interests, and passions. If a trendy travel destination doesn’t excite you, why force yourself to go there? If a trend encourages you to adopt a certain lifestyle but it doesn’t resonate with your core values, it might not be the right path for you.

What about the power of individuality? We’re all unique beings with our own preferences, experiences, and aspirations. Just because something is trending doesn’t mean it’s the right fit for everyone. In fact, some of the most fulfilling and memorable experiences come from charting your own course.

Many of us have likely seen a fair share of unique places and cultures. If you’ve embraced adventure and the richness of different societies, your interests are wide-ranging. Elaborate on those, as this diversity in your passions speaks volumes about the richness of human experiences.

So, my advice is this: be trend-aware but not trend-enslaved. Explore what piques your curiosity, whether it’s an emerging trend or a hidden gem that few have heard of. Embrace your sense of adventure and cultural exploration, and let your personal interests guide your journey. Forget any lists as the one above. Perhaps only skim it. Trends come and go, but your passions are timeless.

On another hand, trends can be a fun way to discover new possibilities, but they should never overshadow the unique path you’re meant to travel. So, go forth with an open mind, a discerning eye, and a heart full of adventure. Create your own routes in destinations that may not be on any list. The world is your canvas, and you’re the artist of your own bicycle travel masterpiece.

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Unfortunately, in my six-weeks of bicycle travel around Victoria, I saw none, not a single kangaroo, koala or a wombat crossing the road.

Freewheeling downhill from the likes of Mount Victory in the Grampians at nearly 70 km/hr, I hoped I would not encounter a kangaroo, not to mention having to avert a collision with one.

When I came upon the koala activity signs, I slowed down, often even stopped, and surveyed the upper branches of trees at the side of the road, hoping I’d glimpse at least one wild koala. But I had no such luck.

In Halls Gap in the Grampians, I saw many kangaroos, emus, parrots and cockatoos in town, but not on the road.

Perhaps just as well, as I really didn’t fancy facing a massive kangaroo standing in my way in the middle of the road! On the other hand, it would be nice to see a koala eye to eye. I’d certainly yield the koala the right of way. Perhaps on my next bike trip in Australia. That said, I’d yield to the kangaroo as well!

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As one of Victoria’s license plate slogans says, “Victoria – The Place to Be,” is a worthy destination for any avid cyclist.

Although Victoria is Australia’s second-smallest state, and the second-most-populated state, it’s the most densely populated state in Australia. Sounds almost like Europe or the East Coast of the United States, but it is misleading. Victoria is still vast and the six weeks I had weren’t enough to cover it all, nor I aspired to having to see it all. I had to pick and just ride. Having completed my cycling tour, all I can say is Victoria is enchanting, and I crave for bikepacking more of it. Perhaps I shall return once again. It’s been ages since I was in Australia before this bike trip, so I had to come back. Victoria, the landscape, the people, the culture is a must see destination, whether you are a cyclist, but bicycle travel around Victoria is definitively a way to go. More to come on my cycling tour of Victoria.

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Cycling across Sardinia, Italy’s second largest island, beholds stunning landscapes, mountainous stretches of uninhabited territory, challenging climbs, fast descents, and vestiges of the Nuragic civilization. While Sardinia’s beaches are legendary, and most visitors to this isle are sun worshippers, Sardinia offers some epic bicycle rides.

Tour length: It depends, but with two to three weeks to spare, you can ride 500 to 800+ kilometers all across the island, starting from Olbia in the northeast, and finish in Cagliari, the capital, in the south. Of course, you can easily ride twice as much, but there in no reason to rush along the way as Sardinia is worth a few days of just hanging out, and sample its arts and culture, including and not to forget its wines.

Difficulty: Moderate to hard

Terrain: The coastline is a mix of hilly and flat; the interior is predominately mountainous.

Surface: Mostly paved roads with light to almost no traffic.

Climate: Being relatively a large and hilly island, Sardinia’s weather is not uniform. The East is drier, but paradoxically suffers the worst rainstorms. With much the same latitude as Majorca and south of Italy, Sardinia sports a Mediterranean climate, with mild, rainy winters and hot summers. “Mistral,” the dominant wind from the northwest off the coast of France, blows throughout the year, on and off, though it is most prevalent in winter and spring, when it can become quite uncomfortable for a cyclist. Usually dry and cool, it brings respite from the summer heat, although it becomes less of a factor, particularly on the west coast and the further south you ride.

Attractions: Rocky coasts, striking headlands, deep bays and inlets, sprinkled with amazing beaches. Sardinia’s coast and interior are mountainous, with stretches of uninhabited territory, offering many challenging climbs and fast descents. The ranges run crosswise, separated by wide alluvial valleys and flatlands. Cycling Sardinia is your best way to experience the beauty of Sardinia’s long-untouched landscapes dotted with vestiges of the Nuragic civilization and move about at your own pace. Ruled by the Phoenicians, the Romans, the Byzantines, and the Iberian Crown of Aragon before the period of Italian unification, Sardinia’s culture and history was remarkably rich. I cycled Sardinia this past spring, in April-May, and will post more on this resplendent island.

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Make a point of stopping at the many shrines along the way. Not for spiritual reasons, but for the slice of the Argentine culture these shrines represent.

STAGE 1: MENDOZA TO POTRERILLOS
Distance: 71 km
Altitude Profile (765 m to 1,611 m)
Altitude range 846 m
Total climb 1,038 m
Total descent 412 m

From Cycling Mendoza to Santiago

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There are no villages, only an occasional solitary homestead or a cabin deep in the jungle, where a handful of local farmers grow nutmeg and bananas.

At the tail end of the path where it begins to zig zag downhill to the first settlement, there is a rubber plantation, and past it at km 13, once down from the hills, a paved road (P234) brings you to the village of Betong. Past Betong, P234 becomes P16, which at Tamang Sempurna merges with H6.

From Cycling Malaysia

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