The world’s greatest cycling holidays (according to you) – Telegraph.co.uk

This week’s winner

Going Dutch in the saddle

My tip would be to join Vrienden op de Fiets (vriendenopdefiets.nl/en), literally translated as Friends on Bikes, for an authentic cycling experience in the Netherlands. 

Taking our bikes on the ferry to Rotterdam, we had a wonderful week navigating the car-free Dutch cycle paths that criss-cross this super-friendly country. Every afternoon, we would phone one of the 6,000 guest contacts that came with our €10 (£8.70) membership, to see if they could accommodate us. 

For a fixed fee of €19 a night, our quirky accommodation included a stay on a houseboat in Leiden, a garden room on the island of Texel and a farmhouse outside Nijmegen. Without fail, we were greeted with a warm welcome, a made-up bed and great tips on where to eat. 

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast and a chat with our host, we would be packed off in the right direction for another day’s adventure. 

Sue Bell, from Nottinghamshire, wins a £300 voucher with Hotel de France.

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Kookaburras and coffee in Melbourne 

The bellbirds were pinging and the kookaburras laughing as we cycled alongside the Yarra river in Melbourne, Australia. Then, as we moved into parkland, a pair of red-rumped parrots took to the air ahead of us. My wife and I were cycling on a hired tandem along the Capital City Trail, a 17-mile loop which is a small part of the 1,100 miles or so of dedicated, car-free cycle trails crossing the city. 

As a means of appreciating the garden city of Melbourne and its wildlife, cycling is superb. Trails follow its river and creek systems, run parallel with the freeways and occupy disused railway tracks. Coffee is an integral part of the Melbourne lifestyle, so there’s always a coffee shop en route. Hired bikes are freely available and the relatively flat topography makes Melbourne ideal for cycling – 45,000 local members of the city’s Bicycle Network can’t be wrong.

Lindsay Fortune, Somerset

A rough but memorable Norwegian ride

One May 60 years ago, my friend Peter and I pedalled our road bikes from Oslo to Bergen, before Norway had exploited its oil. Almost all the roads were unsurfaced, but it was asphalt at first out of Oslo – so, wet and mud-splattered, we managed 124 miles to Gol hostel.

The second day was tough, across the 1,200m, snow-covered Hardangervidda. We wore all our clothes, even pyjama bottoms under trousers. I got a puncture near Ustaoset, so we trudged to find shelter from the snow behind a wall for repairs. The unsurfaced descent into Eidfjord was scary but Kinsarvik hostel was run by a beautiful young woman. I wanted to stay! 

The next day, two ferries and a wet ride along Hardangerfjord led us to Bergen. The hostel was on top of Floyen, the city’s mountain. We ignored the funicular and rode up, the final stage of our 480km ride from Oslo in just three days.

Nowadays, Norway is much easier for cyclists – just watch the rough road surface in tunnels. The hostel has moved to town level, too.

Malcolm Fletcher, Wiltshire

Fund-raising trip the length of Britain

Some years ago I cycled from Land’s End to John o’ Groats. It was easy to plan, as national organisations had done the work in advance. I chose to use the Cycling Touring Club of Great Britain, riding its Youth Hostel Route which uses only B-roads and lanes. 

The youth hostels all provide secure storage for cycles. Most of them do meals as well, and will provide bed, breakfast, an evening meal and a packed lunch. I completed the trip in 13 days and saw so much of the UK, raising funds for clubs for young people in Northampton.

Stephen Digby, Northampton

Bedouins and Saladin in a more peaceful Syria

There was a time when Syria was not a no-go area. From Damascus airport, we once travelled from Palmyra to Homs by bus, taking our own bikes, then rode up to Krak de Chevaliers, TE Lawrence’s favourite castle. From there it was on to Apamea, every bit as splendid as Palmyra. We went wild camping in the ruins of a Byzantine cathedral, waking up to a long road of Roman columns and a visit from our Bedouin neighbours’ children. 

It was a long way to Latakia on the coast, riding through a beautiful verdant valley. Our dog “zappers”, which emitted a high-pitched sound, worked perfectly when wild dogs tried to jump on us as we cycled – and kept us feeling safe in our tent at night. The police followed us, we believe, helping us when we got lost. 

Other highlights were Saladin’s Castle and Aleppo, where we watched our large brass tabletop being beaten to create a picture of Saladin in the middle. It was later flown home strapped to a bicycle wheel.

Penny Singlehurst, Wiltshire

Unforgettable reaction to Union Jack flags in Denmark

In 1951 my wife and I cycled around Denmark, staying at youth hostels. Our bone-shaker bikes amused the Danes, but our Union Jacks on the handlebars ensured that we received the warmth that the locals had for the British. 

Schoolchildren in playgrounds waved as we passed. In a rural café, two smiling chefs appeared with a tray of cakes for us but would not take any payment. In Copenhagen, a small crowd surrounded our bikes outside a bank and a boy approached us, saying that his parents would deem it an honour to have their photograph taken with us. They then invited us to have dinner at their home.

Now, 65 years later, we still recall the most humbling of all the events. It was the custom, in the youth hostels, of singing our national anthem in English before “lights out”. 

Arthur Allwright, Kent

Tearful start to a stress-free French escape 

On our trip to France, I imagined cycling through fields, stopping at chateaux and vineyard wineries and stocking up in boulangeries. We’d be stress-free and sunburnt, and stay in family-run hotels. 

The reality of the first half-hour was spitting rain and a grey A-road with thundering trucks and cars, and an already torn map. There was a frosty silence as I stopped in a lay-by, refusing to go further, choking back tears while my husband re-examined the map.

After a U-turn and a more careful look, we found the start of the cycle path, winding through fields of sunflowers, past allotments and a farm shop selling strawberries. Chenonceau was beautiful, as was Montrichard. We cheerfully found detours and were passed by families on bikes towing tents, children and dogs behind them. It was, in the end, the stress-free holiday we’d been searching for.

Sue Strang, Isle of Man

Memorable Scottish mountain highs

“You’re in the Cairngorms now laddie,” the landlord said, in an accent you could cut with a knife and fork. “It’s impossible to predict the weather but I think it will be fine for a few days.”

It was late March – and there was no snow. Plan A had been to ski over the weekend, but now we needed a Plan B. After a pleasant interlude in the bar, we were advised to hire bikes instead.

After studying the myriad mountain bike trails in the area, we settled on Route 1 – an easy, off-road trail suitable for families with children, around Loch Garten and the Osprey Centre. We cycled on quiet forest tracks, witnessing stunning mountain scenery and ospreys as they dipped and dived. On heather moors, we breathed in the aromatic scent of some of the oldest woodlands in Britain. The wildlife was spectacular. Magical.

Douglas Burke, Cheshire

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