Friday, September 25, 2009--Dublin

1172 miles is the final distance traveled in this cycle trek. From Hamburg to Venice was the route, and it has been completed. In planning the trip a couple days were allowed for rest or unforeseen problems or unanticipated detours, or just flex days at the end of the trip. Our itinerary involved detours (to Slovenia) and problems (broken spoke and nearly broken fork), but still left us with a couple days at the end. So yesterday was a day's visit to Venice, and today was a quick visit to Treviso then plenty of time to get to the airport. In fact we arrived mid-afternoon and our flight was not until 9 pm, so we cycled around the area a bit--not too exciting but better than sitting in an airport.
The flight back to Dublin was smooth, and as Andrea picked up Brian and headed north to Lisburn I was picked up by a Dublin friend and taken to Sandymount, a village just south of Dublin proper, where Nancy was staying with a friend.
So, another wonderful adventure comes to a conclusion. And an excellent adventure and happy conclusion is was! And, again, Thanks be to God!

Thursday, September 24, 2009--Venice, Italy

Today the bikes stayed in the garage. With only a few miles left to the airport and our Friday flight to Dublin, we decided to spend the day in Venice. Not a bad option to have…

Venice, of course, is a city unlike any other in the world. The news recently noted that the declining population of the city meant that soon it would cease to be a viable city, instead it would be a population center whose existence depended on outside resources, specifically tourism. At the same time the news noted that so many tourists were flooding into the city that it may be necessary to consider limiting access, with one suggestion being that only people with hotel reservations in the city itself would be admitted. In any case, with sinking buildings and rising sea levels the city has its own set of problems, but it is still most interesting to visit.

This was my third trip to the city, and consisted simply of walking around, nursing an espresso on San Marcos Square, and sitting on the steps of a theater eating a Panini and drinking a coke. The weather was pleasant and the crowds not as large as on my previous visits, which made this day pleasant. I think that if a person had a specific interest in certain art or architecture styles Venice would be of extreme interest, but without such a specific interest it was enough to walk, enjoy, watch the people and soak in the ambience.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009—Roncade, Italy

The main road south from Belluno is a busy one, so the route I chose was the route plotted by my TomTom gps. My experience with the TomTom, which has an option titled Bicycle Route, has been a very positive one. Once, in Germany, it led us onto a dirt road that got smaller and smaller until it became nothing but a farmer’s field, and the same day it could not find a paved route between two towns, but besides this one time it’s plan has been excellent. It avoids highly traveled roads yet goes in a relatively straight line, making the route a bit longer than the busy roads but much more interesting and cycle-friendly. And it always lets you know exactly where you are. In short, you should have a decent map with you, but a gps adds security and ease of planning which is very valuable.

The route we followed went through farming country for some time, then turned towards a ridge which we had to cross. The road up the ridge was a climb, but picturesque and noable. But once we reached the top, the Passo di S.Boldo, the other side was unlike any I have ever experienced. It began with a warning that no vehicle over 3 meters in height would be allowed to pass. The next sign indicated that 18 switchbacks were ahead. Then there was a stop light. All of this made me wonder what lay ahead. And what came was a one lane road going through a series of tunnels and switchbacks, descending a vertical mountain face to a valley below. It was as if the road builders had built a road up a canyon and found that it ended up facing a dead-end in the form of a mountain. So they decided to just climb the mountain with the road—which is what they did. An amazing engineering feat, and a most interesting road to ride down.

From the bottom of that pass to where we have stopped for the night, just 12 miles from the Venice airport, the route mirrored the increasingly populated area we were entering. The roads became more crowded until we changed our route to avoid what we had assumed would be our destination, Treviso, and instead had the TomTom guide us towards the airport on a Bicycle Route that bypassed that city. From where we are the ending point of our nearly 1200 mile trip is only about an hour away, so we may not ride at all tomorrow. What we may do is make a sojourn into Treviso to look around, and we will certainly spend most of either tomorrow or Friday in Venice. Hamburg to Venice, 2009, is just about history.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009—Belluno, Italy

We have reached the point in our trip where we need to slow down. Our flight back to Ireland will take off Friday evening, which means we have four days to get to the airport. But the Marco Polo International Airport (Venice) is only around 100 miles away, which should not take four days. So today we stopped after only 24 miles at Belluno, a pleasant but rather ordinary city and capital of the Dolomite area of northern Italy.

To use the word grandeur to describe the Dolomites is perhaps using a cliché, but it is an apt one. The roads follow deep valleys cut through massive mountains which tower over the rivers and roads below. The valleys end, of course, and when they do there is a pass to climb to get to the next valley—which means first a climb then a downhill run. The mountain slopes are steep and peaked, often consisting of bare rock which glistens in the morning or evening sunlight.

The short ride from Cimolais began with an uphill pull over a steep rise then a wonderful ride down the other side, past several small villages and one massive dam and reservoir. When the road reached the town of Longarone it turned south and changed from a beautiful rugged rural road to a heavily traveled main artery. And because of the character of the topography it was necessary to take that road almost all the way to our stopping point—a rather anticlimactic end to a remarkably beautiful day.

Monday, September 21, 2009—Cimolais, Italy

Today’s ride covered 66 miles and featured just about every kind of terrain you could imagine. It began with a long and scenic downhill, following a mountain river as it descended through dense forests. When the river leveled out it was in the northern part of Italy, an industrial and agricultural area. Our route followed mostly smaller roads that were basically level. They went past some industries, some smaller towns, and through rural areas with their fields of corn. Next the route approached the Dolomites, the massive mountain range at the top of the country. Our first attempt to enter that range was thwarted by a closed road, but a brief detour routed us around the closure, which we learned was most likely caused not by a temporary closure of an existing road but by a section of the road that was just being constructed.

The Dolomites are impressive and many of the villages in them have historically been only reachable by trails or tortuous roads. The road we went on was relatively new and relatively easy cycling because of a series of tunnels that must be replacements for the old ways. One tunnel went for nearly five kilometers, certainly opening up areas of the Dolomites that were unreachable previously. Now much of the area has been made into a National Park, and is excellent for outdoor activities. I assume that in the summer months it is a busy area, but this time of year it is quite silent. Our albergo in Camolais is the only one open.

One of the signs of the time in this part of Italy is the number of derelict or for sale buildings. In this relatively large town there are numerous boarded up homes and numerous buildings that are for sale, and traveling here each hamlet was the same. One wonders what supports the people who live here, which is a question I ask in most rural areas I have traveled past, in nearly any country. Aside from farming, which must be difficult and very seasonal here in the Dolomites, and tourism, which is also very seasonal here, I wonder what people do for work. Walking around there were signs of cleaning up after a celebration, and we learned that yesterday was the annual festival for this city. Entertainers were brought in and performed in every available corner and venue. It must have been a lively place for one day, and local shops must have prospered, but what about the rest of the time? I wonder…

Sunday, September 20, 2009—outside Musil, Italy

Today Brian and I cycled to Slovenia for lunch. We began the day in Tarvisio, Italy, crossed Predil Pass into Slovenia, descended a long and steep downhill into a beautiful valley and stopped in Bovec for a pizza. It was the best pizza of the trip, but don’t tell the Italians.

The mountains of northern Slovenia are massive. They are officially called the Julian Alps, and rise to awesome heights above the valleys below. In the valleys are villages and fields that have existed for centuries, but now they are tourist destinations. People come for the scenery, the outdoors activities, and just to enjoy themselves. Like northern Italy, northern Slovenia has become a mecca for motorcycles, and signs on many of the stores we passed had prominent posters declaring Bikers Welcome.

After our lunch stop we debated about where to go—south to southern Slovenia and Croatia, or back west into Italy. Both were good options but Italy won out, and, after a few more miles following the river in Slovenia, we turned back west, up a pass similar to the one we had come down earlier in the day, towards Italy. The map we have was slightly deceptive as it did not indicate how far and how steep our climb would be, but we made it—not quickly but steadily.

Arriving again in Italy we began our descent towards Udine, but soon stopped for a soda at an outdoors family and sports center. As we sat there enjoying the sodas and soaking in the sun, the beautiful mountain scenery and the quiet of the nearly deserted road we were traveling, we decided to spend the night. The owner-manager of the center said that they were only open for weekends after mid September, but that if we wanted he would make a room available for us, the chef would cook a dinner, and his wife would come in the morning to make us breakfast. It was a good deal, and an enjoyable change from the towns and villages we have stopped in until now, so we did it. Then, as we added up the mileage of the day and saw that it was only 36, one of our shortest days, we also noted that our journey that day did move us past the 1000 mile mark for our travels. An accomplishment to celebrate!

The dinner was excellent, featuring local specialties, and Brian and I have been left alone to spend the night and tend to the place. The staff (owner-manager and cook) have gone home and left us instructions as to how to call them if a problem develops. Rather unusual but just fine. And welcome to Italy…

Saturday, September 19, 2009—Tarvisio, Italy

Eight years ago I made a solo cycle trip from Milan to Trieste. My route took me through southern Austria, along some of the trails I repeated today. My memory of back then was a very positive one—sun, smooth cycling on an excellent bike path, and wonderful scenery. Today began with mixed sunshine and clouds, with a forecast of rain, and I wondered whether one can ever go back, whether good memories of the past are doomed to disappointment. But such was not the case. The day turned out excellent, the path was smooth, and the past was recreated.

Our route followed a river that had carved a wide valley between two high mountain ranges. It passed through several small towns, with their distinctive Austrian character, and routed us through well groomed green fields. It was flat and wonderful, and only at the end of the day, as we moved into Italy did we run into any problems. We passed through the Italian town of Tarvisio and headed up a canyon towards Predil Pass, our entry point into Slovenia. But it soon became clear that there probably would be no place to stay short of going over the pass itself, which would be a formidable task. We found a local man working on his home and asked him what lay ahead. His response was that there would be no place to stay short of Yugoslavia. His information affirmed our concern, but also gave us insight into his generation—what was over the border was still Yugoslavia, not Slovenia. In any case we turned around, headed back to Tarvisio, and found a nice small hotel for the night.

Back nine years ago I had cycled from Austria to Italy over Wirtzen Pass, and had experienced one of the steepest hills I had ever ridden. On the maps it is now noted that the gradient of the pass reaches 18%, which is incredibly steep, and it felt like it. This time Brian and I decided to try a different path between the two countries, and it was completely different—the line between Austria and Italy was imperceptible, there was almost no gradient at all either exiting Austria or entering Italy. If only I had known that those years ago…

Friday, September 18, 2009—Kotschach, Austria

This morning the sun shone on the snow-covered peaks outside our windows. There were clouds around, but the sun was shining through. The breakfast was what we have had every day since this trip began—a buffet assortment of meats and cheeses, breads and rolls with butter and jams, corn flakes and a granola, some dried or fresh fruit, yoghurt of several varieties, a hard-boiled egg, juice and coffee. Once, in Salzburg, scrambled eggs and bacon were also available, but aside from that there has been no variation—a good and hearty and predictable breakfast.

The first 30 kilometers of our ride were downhill. We followed a road that paralleled the river running down the valley we were in, or we were on a cycle path alongside the river. At one point we hooked onto a marked cycle path, R8 to be specific, and followed it for miles, assuming it was going our way. However, when the signage actually labeled the direction of the path, we realized that in following it we had turned away from our southerly route some 5 miles before. So we turned around and headed back, wondering where we would have ended up had we not seen that sign. Having returned to our planned route, we ascended a pass and it started to rain.

Arriving at the top we briefly considered stopping there for the night, but decided to keep on going, and descended carefully. At the end of the day we stopped at a guesthouse (gafthof, small hotel) in a village at the foot of that descent. The guesthouse was comfortable, and slightly unusual as it was also not only a bar and restaurant (not unusual) but a butcher shop (fleischmerei) as well. The receptionist directed us to where we could put our bicycles for the night, and at first we thought that she had told us to leave them in the slaughterhouse part of the building. Fortunately that was not right, and they spent the night in the garage next door…

The mountains here in Austria seem to be a series of east-west parallel ranges, each separated by a valley with the river which has carved it in the middle. What this means is that if you are following a river you spend days traveling in a gradual uphill or downhill direction, with awesome mountains on each side. However, if you are traveling south (or north) as we are, you go from pass to valley to pass to valley. The roads go precipitously uphill, then downhill, then cut across a valley to begin the process again. Yesterday we went over one of the highest roads in the country—climbing to the top then descending into a valley. Today we went over two more ranges—climbing up then racing down. And as we head south there is at least one more range looming on our path. It is the range separating Austria from Italy and Slovenia, and depending on what route we choose we will at the top of the pass enter one or the other of these countries. All of these ranges seem to be considered as part of the Alps, so our crossing will be multi-faceted, not a simple up and down.

The rains kept away for part of the day, but began as we climbed out of one valley. When you are straining to carry yourself, your bicycle, and all that you have stuffed into your packs (panniers), a little rain can be a cooling blessing. But on the other side, going downhill, the same can be an irritant or a danger. And we had both today. Rain on the up and rain on the down. I guess in life the same thing can happen, the same experience can be interpreted as either a blessing or a curse, depending on the circumstances or the viewpoint or the attitude. Which makes the Apostle Paul’s faith more remarkable as even from the darkness of prison he could write, what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel… And because of this I rejoice…(Philippians 1:12, 18)

Thursday, September 17, 2009—Heiligenblut, Austria

Grossglockner Peak is the highest point in Austria. Grossglockner Pass is the highest point in the road named after that peak, the Grossglockner Hochalpenstrasse (High Alpine Road). Today the goal was to traverse that road from north to south, and that goal was accomplished. But it was hard. In the process of traveling just 32 miles we climbed approximately 1.2 vertical miles and descended towards the elevation we had when we began. The Hochalpenstrasse is a toll road to all but bicycles, and many cycles use it as a challenge. The road begins formally approximately 10 kilometers south of the town of Bruck, where we spent last night, at a toll booth for cars and motorcycles. There is also an optional check in point for cyclists that, for 2 Euros, provides a date and time stamped print out indicating exactly when the descent was begun. At the top of the pass there is an identical check point where that print out can be inserted indicating exactly when the top of the pass is reached. Neither Brian nor I chose to time our ascent, it was enough to just try it.

Last night the hotel desk clerk said that today would be scattered rain. Fortunately for us there was none on the ascent—the clouds covered the high peaks but it was dry. Unfortunately when we reached the top the rain started, and it continued throughout our descent. This meant that the climb up while very difficult (12% grades regularly) was aided by the elements, but the ride down was awful. It was cold, wet, slippery and so steep that the bike brakes needed to be constantly applied, and with nearly maximum force. While there was almost no car traffic, simply fighting the elements made it so harrowing that we stopped at the first town on the way down, a small resort town named Heiligenblut, and settled in for the night.

In the end, while usually it would not be very honorable to say that a day’s cycle travel averaged around 5 miles an hour, on this day it is. The climb is a world class cycle challenge, and it has been met. While the descent did not afford the luxury of sight-seeing, the views on the way up were magnificent, including sights of cloud covered peaks, giant waterfalls, meadows far below, glaciers in the distance and snow by the side of the road. It has been a day to remember for its good and its bad, and for the grace of God in enabling us to try and to achieve.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009—Bruck an der Grossglockner

How many photos of snow-capped mountains, crystal clear lakes, green pastures and flower-festooned homes does it take to convey the beauty of the Austrian Alps? Certainly more than can be included in this or any blog.

Today we traveled from Salzburg to Bruck an der Grossglockner, a distance of 94 kilometers, or abouty 58 miles. The route was uphill all the way—mostly gradual but at times steep. We traveled on the road for a while, but bypasses for tunnels and the discovery of the Taurenradweg bike trail moved us away from the road for most of the journey. And that was a good thing as the road between Salzburg and Bruck is pretty heavily traveled and the trail provided a good alternative.

Our journey went along the Saalach River, one of the tributaries to the Inn River. The Saalach begins in the high Alps of Austria and wends its way to near Salzburg, where it joins the Salzach which runs into the Inn which joins the Danube and finally empties into the Black Sea. Over the millennia it has dug a deep canyon through the Alps, so as one moves through it you are surrounded by high mountains on all sides. In the course of these years the river has also created at least one beautiful valley, and we cycled through the farms and small towns of that valley today. The weather was good for most of our travel, some sun and some clouds, although it did get cool towards the end.

My previous difficulty with getting The Sound of Music tunes out of my head as I approached Salzburg disappeared as I cycled away from Salzburg. In its place was the tune and words of How Great Thou Art. This hymn, and particularly the line, When I in awesome wonder consider all the worlds thy hands have made…certainly fit the scenery of the day. And it was a whole lot better than a day of A doe a deer a female deer…

Tuesday, September 15--Salzburg, Austria

There are certain cities that are associated with certain songs. There is Frank Sinatra and New York, New York and there is Tony Bennett and I left my heart in San Francisco. And there is Salzburg, the city of Mozart and of Julie Andrews and The Sound of Music. Today I cycled from Burghausen, Germany to Salzburg, Austria, and try as I could it was impossible to stop the echo of songs from The Sound playing in my mind. I found myself humming Doe, a deer a female deer… and would say to myself—STOP! And I would—for about two minutes. Then the tune would reappear, intruding itself into whatever else I may have been thinking, or the nothingness of simply pedaling through beautiful countryside.

The trip to Salzburg was only a bit over 35 miles, and I arrived in the early afternoon. The day had begun with a solid cloud cover, but as it went along there was more and more sun until by the afternoon the skies were quite clear. And coming into Salzburg, following the Salzach River and rounding a bend to see the arc of buildings facing the river and the famous castle looming above the city, was quite a sight. The city of Mozart and Andrews showed itself very well.

There is a cycle path between where I spent last night and Salzburg, but I did not follow it. Instead I had my gps map a cycle route and I followed it. The reason is that while dedicated cycle paths are sometimes excellent routes, often following a river closer than one could by car, passing through solitary fields, and separated from the noise and danger of a street, yesterday’s experience with the path was one of wet sandy grit and I did not want more today. Plus I knew that the gps route would follow small roads, of which there are plenty in this part of the country. And an additional factor is that cycle paths try to avoid towns, making cycling easier and safer, but one of the reasons for cycling in a foreign place is to come to know the towns and see the people that live in them. All that is to say that the ride here was enjoyable and interesting.


We decided to try to find a place to stay in the old city, and were successful, probably because this is not the highest tourist time and rooms are available. So we settled in comfortably. Next was a walk around, enjoying the sunshine and admiring the human creations (buildings and bridges) and the God made creations (the river, cliffs, hills and mountains).

Salzburg is in the shadow of the Bavarian Alps, our destination tomorrow. We plan on following the Saalach River to Zell am See, at the foot of Grossglockner Pass. It should be an interesting day and is something to look forward to. But today is one to look back on with pleasure and thanksgiving—for the health and resources which God has given me so that I can enjoy a special part of his world.

Note: First two photos from Getty Images

Monday, September 14--Burghausen, Germany

The sound of the wheels of a car on wet pavement is a distinctive sound. It is a sound that cyclists are particularly attuned to, and particularly in the morning. From the comfort of a warm bed one can hear that sound and immediately understand what lies ahead—cold, wet and probable misery.

Such was the sound that Brian and I awoke to this morning. And such was the majority of the day. Yesterday we had enjoyed near perfect weather, but today made up for it. While not a drenching downpour, most of the day there was a drizzle that clouded the glasses and dampened the spirit. And the path we were on, the Innradweg, did not ameliorate the discomfort. The path was well marked and well situated, following the Inn River fairly closely and with excellent views, but the surface was regularly a gritty sand. Such a surface probably would be good in dry weather, but in the damp of this day it simply clogged the brakes and covered the legs. And what is more, cycling in sand is somewhat akin to running in sand—it takes a constant effort that is greater than what another surface may need. And the route was upriver, not downriver as the Naab, Regen and Danube were. All of this meant that instead of being able to look around at the beauty, one’s focus has to be on the front wheel and what lies a few feet ahead. Rocks to dodge, muddy spots to evade, and ruts to avoid. But such is part of any cycle journey…

So, in the end we went 81 kilometers (50+ miles) and called it a day. Our next goal is Salzburg, was unreachable in just one day, so we divided the distance in two parts, and today’s part was what we accomplished. We traveled along the Inn and Salzach rivers, through miles of corn fields and past several small but charming towns, and have ended up in a nice hotel in a delightful small German town, Burghausen. Neither Brian nor I had heard of the place before, but evidently many people have, including many famous jazz performers whose names and presence are immortalized in the main street, a street called the street of fame. The town is just across the Salzach River from Ach en der Salzach, Austria, and its imposing castle and ancient main street is quite interesting.


So, with today’s trip we have covered nearly 750 miles in 12 days. We have cycled all or parts of the Elberadweg, Saaleradweg, Naabradweg, Regenradweg, Donauradweg, Innradweg and Salzachradweg. Rad means cycle weg means way. Each has had its own personality, its own plus and minus, its own character. And it has been good…Next comes the Alps—and the adventure of living goes on. Thanks be to God!

Sunday, September 13--Wernstein am Inn, Austria

Today was another near perfect cycling day. We begin at Worth am der Donau, several miles outside of Regensburg, Germany, and ended up 89 miles later, in Werstein am Inn, Austria. Our route was simple—follow the Donauradweg signs to Passau, then find the Inn radweg and follow it towards Salzburg. Simple and easy—down one river (Danube) then up a tributary (Inn) towards our next destination, Salzburg. The weather was ideal—not too hot or cold, and there was a sporadic cloud covering of the sun. The paths were both well marked, generally well surfaced and gradually sloped. And the wind was blowing towards the southwest while we were heading southeast—a good arrangement.

The Donau (Danube) was on one side as we rode down the Donauradwweg, and fields were on the other, generally fields full of corn in various stages of being harvested. I did not know that this part of Bavaria produced so much corn, but it does. Not far to the east of us were hills marking the western limits of the Danube valley, and on some of the hills were castles or churches. The paths are well used, with walkers and cyclists going both past and towards us.

We finally stopped where we did because the road/cycle path we were on went straight through the middle of a large tent, full of people, which were finishing their three day festival. Such festivals are a fixture of this part of Germany and Austria—a weekend of music, dancing groups, booths selling all sorts of food, and beer. Each town seems to have its miniature Oktoberfest. Since it is Sunday, by the time we checked into the pension near the tent and had cleaned up the festivities were closing down, but it was interesting to see a little and hear a little.

An interesting side comment for today is that we were actually not sure what country we were in when we stopped cycling. We were tipped off to the change from Germany to Austria when we asked the waitress at the hotel restaurant to translate the menu and she pointed to the first item and identified it as a traditional Austrian dish. But until we had studied the maps carefully we did not know for sure where we were. The Austrian-German border has no markings of any kind, and while the Inn River for most of its length is a border, at the confluence of the Inn and Danube, that is Passau, such is not the case. So the cycle path crossed the river and remained in Germany, but at some unmarked and unnoticed to us point the river became the border and we entered a new country. Such is the political nature of the new Europe, the European Union. Lots of positives to this arrangement, but I kind of missed a stamp in my passport…

A final note. The Donauradweg is in a class of itself. The Elberadweg was OK, but not that interesting and at points not well signed. The Saaleradweg was too hard to follow and too mixed between good paths and bad trails. The Naabradweg was very good and the short section of the Regen River trail was good as well. But for signage, scenery, small towns and topography, the Donauradweg is the kind of place you could take your family, enjoy, and be safe. Maybe I’ll do that sometime.

Saturday, September 12--Worth an der Donau, Germany

Saturday, September 12

The fork of a bicycle is like a tuning fork. The “handle” of the fork fits through a tube in the frame, where it is anchored. Then the handle bar stem is slipped into the fork, and the handle bar attached to the stem. At the same time the two “tines” of the fork extend down and are far enough apart for the front wheel to fit between them. At the end of these “tines” there are various fittings for anchors for a front rack or mud guards (fenders). And, of course, there is always a fitting for the bolts or quick-release that goes through the axle of the wheel.

All of this means that the fork of a bicycle is a critical component. If it fails, the front wheel will fall off, in a backward direction, catching the gears, legs of the cyclist and anything else. If the fork fails the bicycle becomes a completely unbalanced unicycle and the cyclist is in very bad trouble.

I say this because this morning as I prepared to start off towards the Danube I noticed a crack in the fork of my bicycle. Upon examination I realized that the crack extended more than half way around the fork. In short, the fork was in serious danger of a complete failure, and I in danger of a catastrophe. A quick trip to a local cycle shop confirmed my diagnosis, and the difficulty I might have in curing it. The cycle I ride is not the latest model and parts are hard to find. When cycle shop owner learned that we were heading towards Regensburg, the largest city in this part of Bavaria, he suggested that I go to the largest cycle shop in town, and they might be able to help.

So with the address of the shop programmed into my gps, Brian and I headed slowly off . About 30 kilometers later, having moved from the Naab River basin to the Regen River basin and the point where it joins the Danube, we arrived at the shop in Regensburg-probably the largest cycle shop I have ever seen. The size of the shop encouraged me, but the news, They don’t make those kind anymore. was not good. They did not have a single stem that would fit my bike. But in a final fit of creativity the clerk thought that just possibly their smaller store in the center of town would have something, and he phoned. Now the good news—they had just what I needed.

So, still moving slowly and cautiously, Brian and I worked our way to the center of town where, thanks to the gps we found the exact spot where the shop was located. The clerk greeted us, told us they had what I needed, and when the mechanic returned from lunch he would get to work on it. And that is what happened. An hour and a half of skilled labor replaced the fork, the bearings and adjusted the brakes, and Brian and I were off onto the Danube cycle trail, the Donauradweg, heading towards Passau.

After all was said and done, we cycled 67 kilometers, which is 42 miles. Not a lot of distance, but with all else that we did it was just right. The ride down the Regen River was beautiful, and our cycling and walking around Regensburg was interesting. Plus our introduction to the Donauradweg has shown it to be a route full of beauty. But above all I am thankful that a catastrophe was averted. If something like a partly broken fork had to be discovered, it could not have been in a better place. A gentle ride to a huge store in a large city, the part available, and a mechanic willing to drop everything else and keep this stranded touring cyclist on the road. Good things, no hurt…Thanks be to God for his ongoing grace and protection! The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…

Friday, September 11--Burglengenfeld, Germany

Friday, September 11

Today was one of the days cycle tourists live for. It began in the town of Kemnath and ended 65 miles later in the town of Burglengenfeld, near Regensburg. From Kemnath we followed a route set by the gps, and it got us to where we wanted to go—to the Naab River—but via a number of very small forest roads. One of the problems with the gps is that while I have told it not to include any unpaved roads (one of the options on TomTom) it does not seem to know when some are in this category. Probably 10 km of the day’s ride went on roads that were unpaved, sometimes little more than woodland paths. They were not bad, actually, and as I said they did get us to our destination, but if the gps would have quit, or the battery run down, we would have been in total confusion.

At any rate we made it from our beginning to the town of Luhe-Wildenau in fine shape. The wind was with us, the terrain was gentle, and the day was cool but not cold. The cycling conditions were perfect. And when we arrived at Luhe-Wildenau we quickly found the Naab Cycle Path and began to follow it. And it was wonderful. The Elbe and Saale paths had their good and bad, and in both cases we were following them upstream. Now we have crossed the continental divide and the Naab flows south, our direction of travel. And the cycle trail is very well marked and very well built. Most of the time we were riding on a smooth and traffic-free path just feet from the river itself, and when on road the road was scarcely traveled and the trail easily identifiable. It is somewhat ironic to me that in preparing for this trip I could find much less information about the Naab cycle trail than the Elbe or Saale, but the Naab is much more pleasant in every way.

While Brian and I had planned on a short day for a change, the weather and the trail was so favorable that we kept going past our planned destination and ended up in Burglengenfeld, a delightful historic town on the Naab. We have settled into a hotel right on the river and have enjoyed a good meal, ready for rest…

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, September 8, 9 & 10, 2009

Thursday, September 10, 2009--Kenmath, Germany

Today we followed the route suggested by my gps, instead of trying to follow the Saaleradweg, and it generally worked well. I say generally because at one point it directed us towards a gravel road that deteriorated into a forest road that disappeared. A bit frustrating but we recovered and ended up covering 66 miles, and enjoying most of them.

When I travel by bicycle I try to avoid major roads and major cities. Today the only largish city we went through was Hof, the last (or first, depending on your direction) city of any size on the Saale River. South from there you travel up the Saale towards its headwater, and it gets smaller and smaller. While we were not trying to parallel the river we did cross it enough to see this change, and when we finally turned away at Sparneck it was little more than a trickle of water.

From there, continuing south, we rode uphill to two continental divides, that is where water falling on one side of a line would end up in the Elbe and North Sea, while water falling on the other would end up in the Danube and the Black Sea. The elevation was not great, we will go over much higher points in the Alps, but it was a milestone.

Aside from our one problem, today’s cycling was excellent. The wind was either absent or with us, the predicted rain did not materialize, and nearly all day we were on relatively small roads going through fields, forests and small towns, andthe bakery which we stopped at in the mid-afternoon (our typical day begins with breakfast, then we cycle all day except for a bakery break around 2 or 3) was full of tasty treats. In the end we traveled 66 miles and ended up in Kemnath, a town in former West Germany that is at the center of a land with 4,000 lakes. Our small family-run hotel is delightful and the fish dinner, suggested by the owner and his wife, was delicious. A good day with impressions to treasure.


Wednesday, September 9, 2009--Saalburg,Germany


Today we made a bit more progress towards our final goal, but also made a semi-final decision about the trail we are following. Specifically, we decided that when it is good it is spectacular, going alongside a beautiful river and through interesting small towns, but when it is bad it is terrible, long routes that are unnecessary, hillside climbs, ambiguous or absent signage, and bad surfaces. And since we do not know which it will be, we decided to abandon the route.

Today we traveled 53 miles through forest, field, along a river and a reservoir. At one point the gps I am carrying came in very handy as the route signage was clearly pointing us back in the direction we had just come from. The skies were clear and the wind benign. And we ended up in Saalburg, in a fine small hotel overlooking a large reservoir in the midst of the forests—with the worst food I have ever had.

A word about hotels and Germany. Our first hotel was run by a Croatian family and featured Croatian food. The fourth was run by a Bulgarian family and featured Bulgarian food. The eighth was run by a Hungarian family and featured Hungarian food. In between the second, fifth and sixth hotels had corporate international ownership. Only the third and ninth were German run family hotels. All of which points to the international face of modern Germany and the prevalence of Eastern Europeans in that face.



Tuesday, September 8, 2009--Jena, Germany




Each of these days was along the Saaleradweg, and each was different. On the 8th, after musing about getting there days and going there days, it seemed that we were into a getting nowhere day. First, the ride out of Jena seemed to go smoothly, as we found the marked cycle trail and followed it carefully. It went past some wonderful riverside scenery for a while, but then turned away from the river and up a hillside. After not too long the trail had deteriorated into a forest path, then a rocky forest path, then an uphill rocky forest path—impossible to cycle. After pushing the cycles up the path to an overlook, evidently the destination of that section of the path, we followed what we thought was the continuation of the path. But in fact it was a road to a castle, a tourist destination, which dead-ended. Retracing our steps was difficult, but we finally managed, only to end up on a road that was closed due to construction. The alternative was to go back up that road to a junction, but as we proceeded we discovered that the road was closed in that direction. Construction everywhere! Which left us with the option of retracing our steps back to where we had begun—up the hillside.

At that point a man with a map appeared, and he spoke English. He, too, was completely lost, but he was able to point us in the direction of a cycle path that might get us out of the valley we were in. So we took that path and, indeed, made it out of our dead ends. The path ended on a fairly busy road, but at least it went in our direction. That is until another Road Closed sign appeared. This time we realized that the detour was not only long but in the opposite direction from which we were going. So we ignored the sign and discovered that such was the best choice. In the US most road construction works on one half of a road at a time, leaving room for alternating traffic. Here it seems that construction works on both sides of the road at the same time, meaning that the road is completely impassible for vehicular traffic. Thus the detours. But also thus the possibility of walking one’s bike by the side of the construction, and through the workers, getting to the other side. And this is what we did—we walked the bikes to the other side of the construction and then enjoyed a wonderful traffic-free downhill to our destination…

The lesson of the day? One is that with too many obstacles you can not get that far—our progress for the day was only 34 miles. But more than that, sometimes it seems that there is nowhere to go, that every choice is blocked. But there is always a way…Reminds me of what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 10:13, Corinthians 10:13, No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.

Monday, September 7--Naumburg, Germany

In the activity of cycle touring there are two kinds of days. One can be called a getting there day and the other a going there day. Today was one of the latter.

In a getting there day the point of cycling is to get somewhere, usually somewhere defined as the day or the trip begins. In a getting there day the places visited are means to an end, items to be done with as expeditiously as possible, progress markers to tick off as the day unfolds. The accomplishment of a measured goal is the goal, and success or failure can be easily analyzed. The most common question asked as I meet people while cycling is How many miles do you go a day? That is a getting there day kind of question. How far becomes the defining measure of the trip.

A going there day may well have a defined goal, like a getting there day does, but the measure of the day is not the reaching of that goal. Instead, the measure of the day is the experience of cycling itself. The focus of a going there day is not the destination but the travel, not the place aimed towards but the movement along a line towards that place. How many miles is not relevant on a going there day, rather How was the ride is relevant. A going there day is about the sights and sounds and smells along the way, about people encountered and the strange things that happen.

On a fairly long cycle trip such as this one, there is a place for both kinds of days. And there are conditions that lend themselves to defining a day in one way or another. The first several days of this trip have been primarily getting there days. We wanted to test out our bikes and bodies, to see if the projected plan for the trip seems workable, to establish a rhythm. And the weather voted for a getting there day as well. The wind was very strong against us, rain threatened and came, and some of the trail was lost to us. Accomplishing distance was done against the external forces, we had to push through the obstacles. And they were good getting there days. We found we can and we did what we wanted to do—and more.

But today was a going there day. In the first few days we have already gone farther than projected, so anxiety about our plan is pretty well alleviated. And bikes and bodies seem to be OK. And the clouds have passed, the winds have slowed, and the rain is gone. So today was a day to sit back and enjoy—figuratively speaking. We did travel 47 miles, which is about what we projected per day, but we stopped at Naumburg, several miles short of the city of Jena, the destination we had in mind. And not even all 47 of the miles were progress towards our destination, as we got lost several times. We are following the Saale River Cycling Trail (Saaleradweg), but at times we are doing it without success. Blame signage that is not there or somewhat ambiguous, or our careless failure to note what is there, but at one point we were so lost that we came back to the same spot four times before we got the turn right and rejoined the trail. But in a going there day that is not very important, because the moments are defined by the experience , not the lineal progress, and what happens when going a wrong way is just as significant as what happens going the right way.

Today we enjoyed the ride. Our latitude I fairly far north, so the weather here has turned to fall. You can feel it on your skin and smell it in the air. The trees have not changed in color, but they look ready. The crops are cut and the apples are falling off the trees. And we traveled right next to the Saale River, at least when we were not lost or the track did not veer away from it. The river is a tributary to the Elbe, which is the first river Brian and I followed, and as a tributary is much smaller and more approachable, and is growing smaller as we go towards its headwaters. The towns are becoming more interesting, they are not huge cities but smaller towns and villages, each with its church, its old buildings, its central square and its history. While these towns still show some of the characteristic deterioration and neglect of the former Soviet Union, they seem to have been less affected and maintained a brighter charm. And in a going there day you observe and enjoy these things, in each little town or farm or field that you pass.

And you have time to chat with the people you meet. Today we stopped at a coffee shop for refreshment after pedaling just over three hours. The shop was small and we chatted with the owner. I commented that the apricot streusel I was eating was particularly tasty, which pleased the owner as his wife had made it. And I learned that his competence in English (something a surprisingly few people we have met have displayed) was because of visitors and friends who came to see him from the United States. I further learned that these visitors were often pastors, coming to encourage him in his work as a church planter—something very difficult to do in Germany. And he had studied in Albania, while working with Youth With a Mission. In a going there day these encounters are highlights, not reaching a mileage goal.

As I think about the idea of two kinds of days on a bike, I realize that life is usually lived with a focus on one or the other. We are sometimes focused on getting somewhere or some thing, and sometimes on the experience of the moment. And some times and seasons it is appropriate to have one focus or the other—neither is better than the other. But I am also afraid that for some people the focus is not just for a time but for a long time—too long. And for some people the focus is not right for the time. Jesus himself had a goal, he had an appointment with the cross, one which had been set before time and eternity. And he met that appointment. But at times he just lived for the moment. He left the pressing crowd for time alone, he paused en route to a soldier’s house to address a desperate woman, and he stopped his march to Jerusalem beneath a tree to call Zacchaeus down.

My point is simply the same point made long ago by The Preacher (Ecclesiastes), There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven... (Eccl 3:1) And my point is a challenge to me and to others to discern the time and live it as it is meant to be lived. To not get so focused on either reaching a definable goal or just being in the moment that the other has no place...