clairedavieswriter

The pair of Polish powerlifters were up at 5.30, which was handy, as I’d planned to start early to avoid rain forecast for the afternoon. Team Bernard were on the road less than an hour later. I confess I felt a bit bleary – not helped by the weather. It was chilly enough for a gilet, my bare arms froze during an early descent, and my bum was suffering from day 3 (black and) blues.

Today was all about getting over the Elbe, and ideally reaching our destination before the rain. Bernard was looking forward to his ferry ride, but we hadn’t bargained on two. On my route, this one, at Brunsbüttel, looked like a bridge, but it definitely wasn’t:

We had to wait for an enormous ship to go past, which surprised me as I’d assumed we were just crossing a small tributary of the Elbe:

But it turns out that this was the Nord-Ostsee Kanal, which (as the name suggests) cuts right across the peninsula, from the mouth of the Elbe in the North Sea to Kiel on the east coast. I’ve marked it on this map in black. For readers interested in such things I’ve also marked my route over the last 3 days in red:

Bernard enjoyed his boat ride:

But Guillaume was back to his old tricks again. Perhaps he’d have preferred a bridge.

Three hours later, we got the river crossing we’d been expecting:

I thought the canal was quite wide but the Elbe is vast: it took us half an hour to cross, during which time poor Guillaume got increasingly confused (we’re the thin blue line, the purple one was his ‘expected’ route):

Having been on the road for four hours, I was ready for another snack, and tempting though this sounded:

I played it safe with something I’d bought earlier (see café, below). I think it was omelette (it was definitely egg), but it was the texture of egg custard, and the mixture appeared to have been poured into a circular mould, because it was the same thickness all round. Sounds weird but it tasted good, if a little bland.

Besides the ferry crossings, other highlights today included my first recorded café stop of the trip, which yielded the aforementioned sandwich, a coffee, and this delicious sugary creation (word of the day, Rosinenschnecke – literally, raisin snail):

I’ve ridden through several of these flood gates on my way south. They show very clearly how vulnerable the low-lying inland areas are, and how much people’s safety and livelihoods depend on sea and river defences.

The plaque by Bernard’s wheel indicates the water level (‘Sturmfluthöhe’ – literally, ‘storm flood height’ – I do love these compound nouns) on 16-17 February 1962. It might not look very high, but bear in mind that it’s at the top of a hump: the houses behind Bernard are several feet below.

Architectural highlights today came in the form of (1) the distinctive painted wood spire beside the church in Sankt Margarethen (it seems that detached spires are a thing round here):

And (2) these peculiar wooden ‘forks’, usually fashioned into something decorative, that adorn the roofs of thatched houses. I’m assuming they have a function (holding the thatch down in a gale?) beyond the aesthetic. Any thatchers out there, do enlighten me:

Speaking of thatched houses, from what I’ve seen they are quite common in these parts, and there’s very much a standard design. There were lots of them tucked into the lee of the Elbe dyke (on the left of the picture). This was one of the prettiest:

As for the cycling, once again I spent the day either battling a headwind or trying not to be blown sideways:

But at least I was out of the traffic again:

But this was a shock development:

Until I discovered that ‘damaged cycle path’ in German would translate into ‘perfectly fine, no maintenance required’ in the UK.

I’m pleased to say that we achieved our objective of arriving before the rain. Bernard is tucked up at the back of the garage:

And I will be having supper in the hotel restaurant. Which is just as well, as this is what’s happening outside:

While we were still unsure if we’d get wet, this was a strong contender for Sign of the Day:

But for sheer childish silliness, it was beaten into second place by the hotel’s brand of loo paper:

Gute Nacht und bis morgen!