151.8 km, 776 m vertical, average 19.3 kph, maximum 45
My room was dead quiet, except for the ticking of the clock. Once in a while a thump that was probably a cow in the barn. The morn dawned cold and clear and windy. If there were pumpkins, they’d be frosted – everything else was. I had begun to think I wouldn’t need the winter gloves on this tour – wrong!
Breakfast was delivered to my room. Ham, eggs, cheese, whole milk – I promise I’ll go on a zero-cholesterol diet as soon as I get home. Meanwhile, I eat what there is. After Frau Schätzel bragged about the fresh milk, I wondered if it would be warm-and-foamy fresh. No. But still very good.
On the road by 8. Dressed in full winter gear, even the Gore-Tex socks. The bad part of clear sunny weather is that it’s also cold and windy. I had a headwind all day, made it a difficult one.
Isn’t there some eastern philosophy or religion that advocates being irresistible by never resisting? That’s my strategy for the day: just gear down, never push it, but keep it moving. I didn’t abuse the leg yesterday, and I’m optimistic that it will give me a good day’s service, as long as I don’t abuse it today. The downside of this approach is that it puts more pressure, more time, on my hands, my butt. If I were continuing this tour, I’d need a day off to heal the body and recover my enthusiasm.
I guessed that today would be about 130 km, to the S-bahn at Petershausen. I can make it shorter if I need to, by going to Augsburg or Ingolstadt and taking a train. Or, of course, even shorter, by taking a train from somewhere else. We’ll see how it goes.
Sunday is a bad day to find food on the road. I like best to find a Bäckerei, and they’re all closed. I have five granny bars, a few peanuts, an apple from breakfast. Will that be enough? There are always the candy shops at the gas stations, but that’s a last resort.
Dinkelsbühl was worth a stop. |
Crossed the 49th parallel – remember a similar event near Ottawa on our North American crossing? I commented before about how far north even the south part of Germany is – no wonder the days are short. |
Nördlingen had an Antik and Trödel (junk) sidewalk sale in progress. |
Harburg had a Schloß at the top of its cliffs. The road went through a tunnel – no bikes. I was diverted down a steep street into and through the town instead. Kein Problem.
Got sidetracked through Ebermergen and Wörnitzstein on the way to Donauwörth, which is a nice enough town. Nothing caught my eye enough to warrant a picture. Truth be told, I’m ready to wrap up this one, looking forward to getting home.
Not completely brain-dead, though. I saw Flurbereinigung signs by the road; I recalled seeing them before, and wondering what a Flurber might be – not a German-sounding word at all. Today I realized I had been parsing it incorrectly, an occupational hazard of dealing with these long compound words: it’s really Flur-bereinigung. Checked the dictionary when I got home; it still wasn’t helpful: Flur are open fields, and bereinigen means to settle. So? I asked Majk later. He said it’s a rationalization program sponsored by the government, which provides a legal framework and acts as a clearing house for farmers who wish to voluntarily swap tiny sections of land, fragmented by centuries of tradition and inheritance, into more rational holdings. Good idea!
I had intended to ride toward Augsburg, turn off at Meitingen for Petershausen, but the road south was closed to bicycles. So I turned toward Ingolstadt instead. The Donau valley should at least be flat – though the countryside was completely open, the wind worse than ever.
The Ingolstadt road turned to Autobahn at Rain, but that’s where I wanted to turn off anyway. Met a serious-looking cyclist going the other way; we greeted each other, went on.
Somewhere east of Pöttmes, I saw a rider coming up fast in my mirror. Same guy. Greetings, and he flew on past. I caught him up later while he was stopped for a calorie break; greetings, and I rode on.
Next time he came up, we were on a bike path, and he dropped in beside me. After my first utterance, he said he didn’t speak Englisch and started to pull away, then decided he’d be willing to work with my Deutsch. So we rode together and had quite a conversation, the upshot of which was that he invited me to his home in Schrobenhausen for some fluids and calories.
Once we got back onto the road, I followed him. On the flats, I would have been willing to go faster than his lead, but once we started uphill, my tired body was happy he wasn’t going any faster.
His wife put out grapefruit juice, vollkorn Brot, marmalade, honey, cookies… I was getting really tired, had been about at the point of bonking, and it was a big help. Turns out the guy was also fifty (August birthday), works for Bayer in what I think is an X-ray division of some kind, rides about 10.000 km per year.
Question: do I Du him, or not? Well, I did. It occurred to me later that I should have just followed his lead – but I was so tired, so spaced out, so stupid from pain, fatigue and cold, that I honestly didn’t know – and don’t know today – how he was addressing me. Probably as Sie.
I thanked them as profusely as my limited command of the language would permit, rode out. A big help, but it was still a difficult day. The leg started hurting at about 130 km, and the last twenty were very hilly. Slow and steady.
I stopped south of Bayerdilling – what a great name! – for a photo of the autumn countryside. It seemed fitting, at the end of the season, at the end of the day, at the end of the ride, at the end of our German adventure: no brilliant flashy colours, no excitement, no motion, even – just the slow beautiful fading of a wonderful experience.
The sun went down. I turned on my belt flasher. Rode through two herds of cows on their way home for the night. The trains were crowded; I had to stand after Dachau. Kein Problem. I took a hot shower – with soap! – and Jacky fixed Würst and veggies and Brot and there was Bier and the bed was warm and friendly and it was wonderful to be home again.
Total 1077.2 km, and what an adventure!