clairedavieswriter

After my poor show on the fuelling front on Day 1, I’ve been trying to do better, but yesterday I may have overcompensated. I made an inventory of my intake last night:

6am: pot of yoghurt with granola

7am: banana

8.30am: pain aux raisin

10.30am: omelette roll

2pm: cheese roll

6.30pm: red lentil curry, rice, salad.

So it may be no coincidence that my legs felt good when I set off today.

By the way, the drink in the picture is beschorle, a refreshing blend of lager and fruit juice that we discovered in Switzerland last summer. Like shandy but fruitier. You can vary the juice. This one was made, at the waiter’s suggestion, with passion fruit juice (word of the night: Maracuja) and it was delicious.

Meanwhile, Bernard’s accommodation had filled up. I was momentarily worried about extracting him, until I noticed that the others had been parked in a manner typical of two German traits that I’ve come to appreciate over the last few days: precision and consideration for others:

Elsewhere, the precision can be seen in the neatness of front gardens; I’m benefiting from German consideration every day, as drivers of vehicles joining the main road wait patiently behind the cycle path when they see me coming – even if I’m still 100 yards away.

I didn’t have far to ride today, but I was keen to pitch my tent before the forecast rain arrived, so Team Bernard set off at 7am, panniers bursting with goodies from the breakfast buffet (see overcompensating, above).

As it turns out, I was inadvertently doing a runner – the hotel called later to point out, admirably euphemistically, that ‘my bill was still open’. One of the risks of a long tour with accommodation arranged mainly through booking.com: most are prepaid. It’s easy to forget those that aren’t.

After yesterday’s grey skies and biting wind, this made a welcome change:

Although looks can be deceiving: my weather app hadn’t been wrong to warn that it would ‘feel like’ 8 degrees, and for the whole morning I stayed wrapped up in two short + long sleeve jerseys and a gilet. Nonetheless, sunshine made for some pretty views:

Cycling-wise, my route variously looked like this (bikes only beyond this point):

And this:

And sometimes this. At one point, I caught myself taking all these perfectly smooth, separated bike paths for granted, and gave myself a stern talking to:

But I did fully appreciate the smoother paved strip on the left here, to save cyclists from the cobbles (see ‘consideration’, above):

These were the first woods I’d seen in Germany:

Though they were the exception. Mostly, aside from a few more apple orchards, we were cycling through fields growing potatoes, wheat, barley, peas, and asparagus:

This was a worrying moment. And they really meant it – those metal gates extended far into the bushes. But to misquote an old saying, ‘where there’s a Guillaume there’s a gway’. And judging by the tyre tracks in the mud and the trampled nettles, I wasn’t the first cyclist to find it. Relieving Bernard of his panniers, I plunged into the ditch, lifted him clear of the thorny brambles, and skirted round the metal wings, before going back for the bags. Kein Problem!

Highlights today included this sobering road sign in the town of Horneburg (Weg = Way). The first four lines tell the story of Anne Frank. The final line explains that the road was thus named in honour of the women’s labour camp which existed just outside the town between 1944 and 1945.

My guardian angels were vigilant again today, ensuring that, everywhere I went, rain showers passed through before I arrived. On the one occasion they mistimed things, they managed instead to conjure up a deserted farmyard with an open-sided barn, right beside the cycle path:

But without doubt my favourite moments of the day were the few minutes I spent dawdling through the handsome Hanseatic town of Stade right at the start. My route would have skirted round it, but this glimpse was enough to make me risk Guillaume’s wrath:

And I’m so glad I did. It was a magical time to see the historic harbour, impressive merchants’ houses…

The distinctive tower of the Lutheran church of Saints Cosmas and Damian:

And the imposing town hall, with ‘Anno 1667’ emblazoned across the front in gold, a period when Stade was part of Sweden (it was also Danish for a while):

Oh, I’m pleased to say that I achieved my objective of putting up my tent before the rain – and I was very pleased to find that my pitch came with an en suite living area. Given it has rained solidly since just after I arrived, I’m not sure what I’d have done without it.

I leave you with a street sign I found relatable (literally, high wind). What with that and the rain, I think it’s going to be a chilly night under canvas – wish me luck!