It was around the time Linas told us as a student he had been sent to a diamond mine for research only to later find out it had been excavated with a nuclear bomb that I realised just how bizarre life had been behind the Iron Curtain.

The 55-year-old professor was our guide for the week as we toured the Baltic states of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia by bike, and boy had he got some stories to tell.

Shamefully, my knowledge of this part of the world and its fascinating history is sorely lacking but if there was ever a way to experience the former USSR, this was it.

We began in Vilnius, later than scheduled but eager to sample what the Lithuanian capital had to offer.

The staff at Senoji Trobele were more than happy to oblige, throwing on a feast which included plenty of local beer (good) and boiled pigs ears (bad) plus a lot more truly delicious food, which bore more than a passing resemblance to the best Bavaria has to offer.

Loaded up with beer (good), pig’s ears (bad) and the local 999 herb and root liquor (I honestly don’t know) we headed into the old town for a midnight tour.

The following day we began cycling, with a relatively painless 12km ride around Lake Galve in the historic city of Trakai.

We stopped at one of its two castles and, after briefly crashing a triathlon ­– with anorak-clad Linas crossing the finish line to applause from the crowds, enjoyed a traditional Karaim lunch (which was a bit like a pasty but came with a nice broth). The Karaims come from Crimea and now number just 2,500, but the owners of Kybynlar are eager to keep their language and traditions alive and teach visitors about their culture. I think we had another shot at the restaurant.

On to Klaipeda, home to Lithuania’s only port and the best fish soup I’ve ever had, where the cycling continued with a more challenging 32km ride along the UNESCO listed Curonian Spit.

Following a tour of the Hill of Witches’ wood carvings, trip to the beach, feast of smoked eel and fish, lecture on the region’s plentiful amber and hike up a massive sand dune we finished up at the Russian border. In hindsight, we did an awful lot across the whole trip but it was still, somehow, quite relaxing.

As we prepared to cross the Latvian border, there was just enough time to stop off at probably the most eerily peaceful place I’ve ever visited. When I was told we would be taking a reasonably long detour to see the ‘Hill of Crosses’ I was dubious, naively thinking it would be home to one or two large-ish crucifixes. How wrong I was.

There were hundreds of thousands of them, planted, partially buried, hung up, scattered on the floor, one from the pope, one from a holidaying American family, another from China. It was remarkable and if you’re ever even a couple of hours away you should see it for yourselves.

Latvia’s capital Riga is a beautiful place, when you’re not transfixed by the city centre’s scores of Art Noveau buildings you can take a short trip to the seaside resort of Jurmala to be mesmerized by the dozens of Art Noveau seaside villas. If you don’t like Art Noveau the city’s more distant past is illustrated in glorious 3D by the imposing St Peter’s Church – once the world’s tallest building ­– and the spectacular House of the Blackheads.

If architecture in general doesn’t set your pulses racing that’s fine too, as Latvia’s food game is strong and very, very heavy.

In Riga I ate pea and bacon soup inside a loaf of rye bread ­– its cold Beetroot cousin served in conventional crockery is a must – and in Jurmala blood sausage and potatoes formed the core of the undisputed largest portion ever.

Half-way through the trip’s longest ride – a 45km trek through sodden forests – we stopped at a Soviet era canteen where the potatoes and pork cutlet hit the spot perfectly. The 40% double shot of local spirit took things too far – I managed roughly a tenth.

It’s more than worth mentioning 3 pavaru restorans, probably the closest to Michelin star dining you can get in the Baltics, where the experience is almost as good as the food, even if the grandiose coffee display for the neighboring table almost put me off ordering an espresso. Folkklubs, an underground explosion of craft beer (including a tipple dedicated to the 45 president of the United States, called Sweet Trump) and jazz, is also a very worthy pit stop.

Here’s an example of how much northern Europeans like their beer: The Swedish Gate in Riga’s old town was literally carved into the city wall to speed up barrel delivery. That’s boozing commitment.

On that note, if you’re planning a stag do you might be interested to learn that such events in the Baltics can include AK47 shooting and bobsleighing, although not at the same time.

A six-hour trip north and we were in Estonia, but not before we’d visited our second nuclear bunker of the trip – the first was the James Bond-esque Plokstine missile base which is also well worth a visit.

Buried nine metres under the Ligatne countryside it had once been the secret shelter of the country’s communist elite but was now the domain of who I can only assume is one of Latvia’s great entertainers, Janis. Janis gave us a fascinating and eccentric insight into the history of the union, complete with herring, egg and onion sandwiches and room temperature vodka, at 10am (very bad).

Estonia is like a less expensive Scandinavia, but there’s much more to the smallest and most northerly of the Baltic states.

We were told you can see bears, moose and Ural owls in the nearby Lahemaa national park, but despite one cyclist reporting roaring on the road ahead we only spotted a sea eagle on our final 30km ride.

Tallinn was my favourite city of the three, dripping with history and, while we were there, light until gone 11pm. It’s mix of medieval and modern is a nod to neighboring Finland, which is just an hour’s ferry trip away (or less by speed boat).

The stunning architecture combined with a much more distant history than we had become used to on the trip to make Tallinn something special.

We started our evening at the Olde Hansa Medieval Restaurant. I’m still unsure whether themed eateries are the best or the worst thing ever but I’d recommend a visit, simply for the experience of eating by candlelight to the tune of harps and bagpipes with little to no idea what you're consuming.

The night was a bizarre yet memorable crash course in modern Estonian drinking culture. From back street boozers to singing Mancunians we experienced it all, before ending up at DM Baar, which is somewhat bafflingly dedicated to 80s new wave stars, Depeche Mode. The band is touring this summer, visiting Russia, Belarus, Latvia and Lithuania but not Estonia.

In a strange way, a beer in what I’m certain is the world’s only Depeche Mode-themed nightspot was an appropriate end to a trip which had exposed the Baltics for what they are – three remarkable countries with a forcibly shared past and a set of entirely separate histories, where cultures have not only stood the test of time but also withstood the clenching fist of the Soviet Union. Any one of these less well-known holiday destinations should be etched on to your travel list.

Explore offers a nine-day easy grade Cycling the Baltic States trip through Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. Cycle through national parks and medieval towns, past feudal castles and picturesque fishing villages. From £1,169 per person including flights, eight nights’ hotel accommodation B&B and the services of an Explore tour leader/cycle guide. The trip includes 240 km of cycling over seven days (average 34km a day) with an optional 22km extra. Rides are accompanied by a support vehicle where possible and luggage is transported throughout the trip. Hire of an eight-gear Kalkhoff Voyager hybrid bike is included. Visit www.explore.co.uk or phone 01252 884 723