The Seine glimmered in the pale, morning light as I cycled the empty streets of Paris. I was on my way to Gare de l’Est – new saddlebags latched onto my old Cannondale touring bike. From here, a series of long-haul commuter trains would transport me and my bike to Vienna, my starting point.⁠ ⁠ I was embarking on a journey that felt momentous – in more ways than one. Six weeks, ten countries, 1,200 miles of cycling. But especially, a 47-year-old history. After all, it was in Vienna that in the summer of 1978 my dad had begun his own, similar journey. As he tells it, he had spotted a bikepacker out the window of a train somewhere in southern Germany, and thought: “Why not do the same?” In the Austrian capital, he bought a Reynolds 531 bike, panniers and a few maps, and began cycling south. He gave himself until the end of the summer to make it to Greece.⁠ ⁠ 'From Vienna to Corfu in my father's wheeltracks' - Read about Phineas Rueckert's adventure in Issue 140 of our magazine, on our app...