Published: Thursday, 30th April, 2009 2:51pm

Adventures in a Nation of Cyclists

My ferry from Hull ended up arriving quite late due to a casualty on-board. We had to turn around and journey back towards England for oven an hour so as to reach the range of a helicopter. The result of all of this was that I was not cycling until well past noon yesterday.

The flat industrial wet-lands riddled with little canals, bigger rivers, railways and roads were in stark contrast to Yorkshire's wolds. No hills in sight, apart from the occasional bridge crossing a busy road or waterway. Annoyingly there was quite a wind blowing in my face which hampered my already affected progress. However, I reached the city of Rotterdam by around 4 having enjoyed my windy cycle along the impressive Dutch cycle tracks - they are just as prominent as roads. Henry wrote a charming account of the Dutch and their cycling:

"..at night time couples even do their courting by bicycle. They link together and ride blissfully along, and there really is little danger of their having any accidents, for the size of their tyres is such as to keep their cycles balanced however much they may incline towards each other."

Once in Rotterdam I decided to continue on and, with the help of a ferry to cross one of the many rivers in the Rhine delta (the Maas), I reached a town called 'Dordrecht' by around 6. Henry mentions his difficulty in finding a bed for the night whilst in the Netherlands. This was no different for yours truly. After many fruitless and awkward conversations with locals I had almost resigned myself to a night of camping in a field out of town. However I was saved by a wonderfully kind woman who owned a little bar that I had stumbled into for a morale-booster! She made a number of phone calls for me and scouted out on of the few local b and b's. After a fine and cheap meal, again courtesy of the dutch lady, and a competitive game of dutch billiards with a local, I left in the dark for my nights rest.

Today I made up for lost time. Despite an ominous forecast, the weather was fare and still - perfect for cycling! After being gifted a map and given a generous reduction from my host, I sped across the country passing a number of towns whose names are known nationwide by cheese lovers - Gouda, Leerdam... - and crossed the border into Germany at around half 5.

Henry VIII's fourth wife comes from the town I have made it to. Anne of Cleves, or Fat Flanders Mare, was married to him for just over half a year before he offered her a generous settlement that did not include a complementary beheading. After another search for a bed, I found that the youth hostel which Henry stayed in (Henry Hiley that is) was still in operation. What a day - 90 miles and a warm bed at the end of it. I feel virtuous!