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...