clairedavieswriter

Today the usually dependable Bernard, who in 4 years has not troubled me with more than a puncture (and none of those since I switched from tubeless Gravelkings to Schwalbes with inner tubes in May 2022 – don’t get me started on tubeless tyres) suffered the inconceivable: an actual mechanical failure.

Just before this picture was taken, about 10k into our ride, his left shifter stopped shifting onto the big cog. Honestly, it could have been worse: at least I had all the small cog to play with.

I assumed that he’d have to limp on till Augsburg, but happily, about halfway to our destination, Gloria identified a suitable bike hospital – compound neologism of the day: Fahrradkrankenhaus:

Where Bernard was whisked straight into theatre and emerged less than half an hour later looking much more comfortable and sporting a new gear cable.

We celebrated immediately, by crossing the Danube at Donauworth:

For me, there’s something particularly special about crossing major rivers on a bike, and they often mark my ICBIH (I can’t believe I’m here) moments. It’s hard to explain why. I think partly it’s that they are such an unarguable geographical entity – they are where they are, and that means you’ve undeniably pedalled from point x to point y. There’s also that ‘crossing the Rubicon’ feeling, because to this day rivers often mark borders between nations or regions. Plus, I think some rivers – like the Nile, the Amazon, the Ganges – are just iconic. I’m unlikely to cross any of those on a bike, but I think the Danube belongs in that list.

I have to be honest though: I wasn’t feeling it today, and that’s because Bernard wasn’t the only one who was krank. I’d managed to injure my knee pushing open a heavy door (don’t laugh). I put on a brave face for the cameras:

But it was causing me quite a lot of bother (though weirdly, not when I was cycling). I tried to calm my anxiety about the next few days by practising what I preach and saying ‘even if…’, instead of ‘what if..’ But I admit I did find myself considering that most terrible of German outcomes, the wurst käse scenario.

What with all that going on, Team Bernard was less mindful of our surroundings than usual, and a lot of them weren’t that remarkable anyway:

But we were impressed by the little town of Harburg, with its pretty square…

… imposing castle, and old stone bridge over the (less iconic) river Wörmitz:

As a follow up to the hay bale newly weds yesterday, I also enjoyed this family’s way of celebrating the arrival of a new baby. On the left you’ll see a pole with a stork’s nest at the top and a cut-out stork at the bottom. In the middle are four red hearts, one of which has the child’s name written on it. And if you look closely you’ll see they’ve gone one further and parked a buggy on the roof of the house!

In my case, given how I was feeling at certain points today, reaching Augsburg was a cause for celebration in itself:

In the interests of keeping hydrated while continuing my local research, I moved on to an (alcohol-free) Rhabarberschorle with my Pinsa beside the river Lech:

Tomorrow I’d been hoping to attack the sights of Augsburg, but I’ll settle for a day doing nothing if it means that Wounded Knee is fit for battle the day after. Keep your fingers crossed please!