End of the Rhine

The last day or so brings me back to the Rhine (or more accurately Maas, if you are Dutch) and eventually, a morning's ride to the mouth at Hoek van Holland to catch the ferry home.

It's been fun (?) with best bits probably the Rhine and Meuse gorges for scenery, the Netherlands in general for sheer calm civilised life and, perhaps surprisingly in my mind, Belgium for people who reached out to talk to me and offer directions when I looked (and was) lost. I've enjoyed camping once more though hard ground, even with some cushioning is a challenge.

At the peak, there is nothing to beat, after a hard days riding, finding a campsite, setting up tent, and then relaxing over a beer in the sunshine. I must do it again next year.

Small World

If you look carefully you can probably make out the Hill's logo on the top of this feed plant.

That's the company I dedicated ten years of my productive life to and who, indirectly, is paying for this trip.

I came across it purely by accident though I remembered it was in the area. I even thought of popping by and reintroducing myself before realising it was twenty years ago and things may have moved on.

The Hippy, Hippy Aches

This bridge is a metaphor for how I felt on the last full-day cycling. For some inexplicable reason my aches and pains caught up with me - specifically my hips/lower back. So the roads all felt steeper - though this part of the country is dead flat.

May be it is a subliminal message from my body telling me not to do this again. It seems like good advice, but I will probably have forgotten it by next year.

Quick, Sand

Google Maps refers to this as a bicycle path. I call it a children's sandpit. The campsite on the penultimate evening was tantalisingly close after a tough day skirting Antwerp but they always throw in another wrinkle like this just when you thought you'd cracked it.

A Quicker Way Ohm

As another aged couple bomb past me on their supercharged electric bikes, I've been running the numbers and I think I can make it work.

I reckon that these grey dragsters are moving about twice as fast as me. Now my costs for this trip have averaged about Euros 35 per day and I've been away just over 3 weeks - say 24 days.

If I could save half those days by moving twice as fast then I would pocket Euros 420 every year.

If a top of the range electric bike costs say Euros 3,500, then it would have paid for itself in about 8 years. That, to me, is a good deal.

The Last Leg

An early morning start out of the campsite in Namur to get me well across Belgium before the day is done.

I have it all planned now. I feel like one of those horses that mopes out of its stables but then turns to a trot and gallop once it heads for home.

A youth hostel in Loeven tonight then just one glitch, with another night camping as the next one is full.

Then I remembered the waterbus that I caught on the way out so that can take me on a last leisurely trip into Rotterdam. The ferry to England is booked for Saturday, so just one last push.

Killer Metres

I need electricity. Everyone else seems to have it, especially in Germany where the majority of bikes now seem to be electric?

Or is that cause they are owned by retired people who are running around on them during the day. I was exasperated by the number of older people who whizzed past me on their silent killers.

They are all German-made of course. Bosch engines and Kalkhoff bikes, so they would set you back a pretty penny.

May be I just need to pay up for the modern technology that perhaps enables me to keep making cycle trips for another few years. Or at least stop me moaning about how I can't do 100kms a day. With one of those I'd be home before I knew it.

Heh, after all, Dylan went electric.

Catch Frais

It's strawberry season in France and I came across this road-side stall towards the end of my ride. They were wonderful, and all gone in 10 minutes.

Cobblers

I hate cobbles. How can anyone call this a cycle path when it shakes every nut and bolt loose on your bike.

Luckily it does not last too long and, in fact, the cycle paths have been wonderful - dedicated to bikes, right next to the river and generally very smooth and well signposted.

Gorgeous

The River Meuse carves its way through the Ardennes creating some impressive scenery. But best of all it's flat.

Breakfast sorted

Dunce sur Meuse

I stood on this very bridge in Dun sur Meuse 9 years ago heading for Verdun and texted to my brother, saying that I was having a great ride down the Meuse.

He texted back to say the Meuse flows in the other direction (south to north). Suddenly my ride felt far more difficult.

It is called the Pershing bridge after the US commander who lead the liberation of the town in 1918.

Snail Time

Sivry's having a snail festival. Presumably with food containing all things 'escargot '. Shame I'll miss it

Ducks in a Row

I'm going to solve this mileage thing, not just accept that I can't do the daily distance anymore. 100km must still be achievable.

So I am taking a practical approach by getting my ducks in a row - leave early (soon after 7 ) and so get some miles under your belt before breakfast. Then if you keep going until late afternoon you can't fail - wind and hills allowing

Distance Learning

Something's not right. I seem to be falling short and I don't know why. I knew there was an issue but now that I retread old ground it has become more obvious. I can't do the distance any more. And I don't know why.

I came this way 9 years ago, specifically Charleville-Meziere to Verdun. Don't look it up, just trust me. It's a distance of about 110km. Back then I did it no problem and arrived in time for tea. Now I find 80km a challenge. 

Of course, it may be that I am going in the opposite direction, against the prevailing winds and the hills seem to have got steeper. Plus now I am camping, so no quick getaway. 

But something tells me that there is another factor at play. If only I could figure out what it was.

Chats et Chiens

It is pouring down in historic Verdun, in fact it is raining across Western Europe, so there is no escaping it. And it's no fun getting soaked on a bike so I have decided to settle into the campsite cafe and wait it out. It will be sunny tomorrow.

It's a lonely existence here as anyone with a camper van or car has headed off into Verdun. But that means that I have the launderette to myself, so I can catch up on my chores and drink endless cups of coffee.

It's kind of nice being forced to stay in one place. I am sure Verdun has a lot to offer but we did the WW1 caverns 40 years ago and I assume that they haven't changed. 

So, as long as tent holds up under the relentless downpour and Bike doesn't mind a bit of a soaking then tomorrow will be another sunny day.

Sent from my iPhone

Double Dutch

He wandered over after I had just arrived at the campsite, admitting afterward that it was to give me advice on how to pitch the tent - "not under a tree as it will take longer to dry." Not that it was going to rain. I am Admittedly I looked like an amateur as I was taking my time over my first pitch of the ride.

He may have wished that he'd kept his thoughts to himself as I then talked his socks off for the next 2 hours - his and his wife's. I think I was making up for two weeks of solitude.

They were Dutch, he was body builder but had given it up in later life and his wife a teacher. I shared all my thoughts and stories over one of his beers. My stories generally last two hours but now they know them all.

He's going to do the Santiago del Compostello route on his bike next year when he retires, but by himself so he can pitch his tent however he wants. And his wife seemed keen for him to go off and do it.

The photo shows looking back down on the campsite after climbing half way out of the Moselle valley next morning to ride over the top to Verdun and the river Meuse.

I Fancy Nancy

The rain pours down, with more forecast, and the wind is in the wrong direction. So I've decided to call on the help of SNCF in my efforts to teach the the River Meuse and so take the train to Nancy.

It saves me a couple of days riding over hills (the memories of taking the same route ten years ago do not fill me with joy) and then I need to make some decisions. Do I head north up the  Meuse or east towards the coast? 

I will leave that decision until tomorrow. The first task in Nancy will be to plough through the rain and find a campsite.

Stressbourg

It's a lovely city with its canals and ancient centre but things are just not working in its favour, at least not in my mind. After the stresses and anxiety of the previous night shared with my cuddly German friend the day did not improve.

The weather can't be helped but pouring rain does dampen the spirits. Then having to change youth hostels because my current one’s fully book. But the big worry was Bike, grating like a rusty pepper grinder due to grit from the rain-sodden path coating every mechanical part.

Bike is like a cowboy's horse, the one that always gets fed first. For if he goes wrong then I am stranded. Hopefully, some tender loving care has done the job and so eased both out stress levels.

Crossing Over

He's gone but his frustration lingers. I am going to miss my German friend. With the looks of a chubby Einstein, he shared my youth hostel room and shouted in his sleep. It was quite disconcerting being woken in the middle of the night by cries of "Warum haben Sie das noch getan?" I was continually concocting a response so that he'd let me go back to sleep.

I shouldn't be to hard on him though, for he'd put up with a lot. According to him the window didn't close and the curtains wouldn't draw. His door key did work and he decided to sleep in the bathroom.

His problem was that he'd come to France and it just wasn't what he was used to. It’s not that he was prejudice as he was all excited about his forthcoming epic bicycle trip around the country. It's just that he hadn't made the adjustment yet.

I could see his point. My first day was marked by things just not quite working properly - starting with the surly waitress, plus breakfast was weird - only hot milk for your cereal, yuk! And why does the drink always come out of the wrong spout of the push-button coffee machine, the one you didn’t put your cup under. Only the French know.

But I'll get used to it and soon appreciate the laid back enchantment of the country. He will too, once he gets a good night's sleep and an answer to his perpetual question.

High Water, Mark

So this is it, the end of the line, or the furthest I am going up the Rhine. Now is the point to turn back if I am to return to the UK to fulfil other commitments.

It has been just under two weeks so we are on schedule, with perhaps the luxury of a rest day to see Strasbourg and prepare for the rest of the trip, which I feel will involve hills and camping (in the rain).

Which Route, Barry?

Forget the previous post about Munchhausen and tall tales, this ride really was epic.

You get one on every trip when the route descends into hacking your way through undergrowth as the vegetation closed around you.

Last year it was the canal path out of Rheims which faded away to become a grass track, with fallen logs barring the path. I made it through, carving a new path for others and avoiding the dreaded "retracing you steps".

This time the sign for the Eurovelo 15 Rhine Route pointed away from the direction shown in my cycle guide. The guide route looked more direct, so I took that.

After about 2 km you get the "Route Barree" fencing. I set off into the woods to find a way around but the trail petered out. Returning to the fence, I find that French cyclists just ignore these barriers or tear them down. So I copied them, slipped through and cycled on.

Soon you meet more obstacles like a gravel storage depot with 100ft high mounds blocking the path and ominous earth moving equipment at work.

There was more scrambling and lumping with bike, down banks and across ditches, but eventually you find a real road.

Then the final obstacle, General Motors have requisitioned a 12 km stretch of straight road for vehicle testing and, in a classic piece of corporate requisitioning, blocked the way. If you slip past and carry on then you get approach and overtaken now and then by a new GM truck with flashing lights doing brake testing. You wait to be stopped but they leave you alone.

At the other end of the track is a locked gate, high fencing and the obligatory sign warning  you off. But you lug bike over the fence to freedom and then see a Speedy Day Rider in full kit lift his bike over the fence going in the other direction.

Clearly, the straight testing track is very popular for bike training and you may not be the only illegal after all.

Lunch Break

It was a long morning riding out of Karlsruhe knowing that there was 90km to go until the night stop.

By lunch time I was wilting and in need of some rest and sustenance. I didn't need a big meal but that's all that this typical French restaurant offered. I guess I could have asked for just a starter or dessert but my French disintegrates with fatigue and English just wasn't on offer.

So I ate the Pot au Feu with fried potatoes, which was good, but then I was fighting digestion lethargy before setting off on the next stretch.

Tall Tales

This is Munchhausen, a town just across the border in what it now France. The name looked familiar so I looked it up. Apparently the real-life Baron Münchhausen fought in the Russo-Turkish war. Upon retiring in 1760, he became a minor celebrity within German aristocratic circles for telling outrageous tall tales based on his military career.

It seems worth a bit of embellishment to keep things interesting, as long as you do not mislead. So I am going to crank up the tales of this epic and heroic trek across the wilds of Europe.

Ferry Last One

You are probably fed up with photos of ferries, so I promise that this is the last one - across into France at Neuburg on the last outward leg to Strasbourg.

Never, Never, Land

You arrive at the landing stage to catch the ferry to take you across the Rhine and see it parked on the other side with very little apparent activity. There are no vehicles or cars on your side so doubt sets in.

Then you see that the ferry is called Peter Pan. So you maybe in Neverland.

You wait and finally it begins to move. That's when car start to appear on your side. Where have they been? Or do they just know the sailing times?

Eventually Peter Pan makes it across. Clearly he comes Wendy ready.

Straight and Narrow

This is heaven, a straight run on a 10km path through the Waldfeld deer park right into the centre of Karlsruhe. That means no need to stop to check the map nor anxiety that I may have taken s wrong turning. Plus the surface is great.

So look at the photos. Do you notice any difference? No? That's the point. Wonderful isn't it?