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NOAH was the original Crazyguy. Always harping on about wanting to be somewhere else, always preparing, always hearing voices telling him the time had come to pack and get going. There being no internet in those days, he was also the first to devise his own packing list. It started:

2 camels 2 lions 2 centipedes 2 brown cows

and it went on from there. In the end he just crossed it through and wrote 'Take two of everything.'

And, like all these centuries later, people were always asking him foolish questions.

'But what will you do if it rains?'

And Noah would say: 'Whadya mean if it rains? It WILL rain!' And people would have gone off shaking their head.

For a while they'd have sent him messages on the road, or rather, on the water. The first were cheerful. Later ones kept commenting on the weather and hoping it was better where he was. They'd be signed with the usual can't-think-of-anything-else-to-say things like 'Say hi to the elephants, and hope the weather improves.'

And then the messages stopped.

Well, we too are taking on the animals two by two. Or two one at a time, anyway. A Crazyguy and a Crazygal. At first we will have the company of Karen Cook, with whom I've corresponded with much fun but never met. She is so unfussy about whose company she keeps that she will fly from California to Toulouse to meet us. And then in Italy we'll meet up with Mike Musto, a Crazyguy we last saw in a shady bar in Vancouver, which probably tells you all you need to know.

I have persuaded Mike that he wants to ride the Stelvio pass in northern Italy. He is not so sure and has spent hours worrying himself with profile maps but seems willing nevertheless. If you look at our route map a page back, you'll see it loops north-east before plunging southwards. That's to take us over the Stelvio, a regular in the Giro d'Italia and the most beautiful climb in the Alps. If you see it through the pain, that is.

The Stelvio, at quite a bit more than 2 000m, has snow for many months. It is dependably open only from the middle of June. That's why we're setting off as late as we are. The other reason is that a late start should get us down to the oven of southern Turkey after the height of summer.

The last time I rode that way I didn't go the whole distance, but telling people that I was 'riding to Istanbul' impressed them to the point of indigestion. Some places are like that. 'Riding to Timbuktu' probably has the same effect.

The obvious route to Istanbul is along the isthmus from Europe into Asia. But one glance at the traffic discourages us. Instead we'll go south before going a little north to take a ferry from the other side of the water. If my plans are right, that will land us in the city without having 30km of major highway to fight.

After that, it's much as you see on the map, down past the killing grounds of the Gallipoli beaches, up through Love Valley and the other obvious places, and then into Georgia before crossing into Armenia before the winter comes. It all seems so far, far away. Well, it is far, far away. I haven't counted but it's about 10 000km away. But at least we know where we'll finish up. Noah didn't have that luxury. Although he did contrive to end up at the top of a hill without having to pedal it first.