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May 7 Sunday hazy hot 32º C Bicycle touring Germany Luxembourg It was shady and cool in our forest hideaway. I was tired from our hundred kilometres of cycle touring yesterday and in no hurry to get moving. The 9 o'clock church bells must ring for fifteen minutes straight. No kidding. No one sleeps past 9 in this village -- even the late night sinners must be awake now. Can't use the excuse "I never heard the church bells for mass." Pushing our fully loaded touring bicycles through the forest I caught a few snags from sticks and put a long rip in my front pannier cover. Several times sticks stuck in my bike's spokes, pedals, and fenders. We bicycled back to the bike path that we left in Penzal last night and followed it along the slow-moving Moselle. Extensive vineyards, across the river in Luxembourg, blanketed the sidehill like a patchwork quilt. Scenic towns with tall church steeples added to the atmosphere of idyllic cycling. Forest, river, vineyards, little towns, no car traffic. There is plenty of bicycle traffic. We passed a couple of hundred cyclists of all ages and sizes today, on a wide variety of bikes from single speeders to Aero racing bars. It's good terrain for cycling -- flat. We were having such a good time cycling along that we missed our turnoff to follow the Sure river to Holland. By the time Sharon stopped to check our cycle touring map, we were well on our way into the middle of Germany. A kindly old man, who sounded like an aged Arnold Shwartzenegger, saw us poring over our maps -- each of our bikes pointed in opposite directions (neither of them correct, by the way). Luckily, the old man came to our rescue. He led us over a new bike bridge and pointed us in the right direction for Holland before waving good-bye. We still had trouble finding our way, but on the third try we succeeded. We knew it had to be there somewhere. The bike path ended. We cycled onto Hwy 418.
Quiet and peaceful cycling amongst the trees and above the "Is
it moving?" Sure We pulled our touring bicycles to a stop to re-examine the map at Echternach. Soon, a police car, with two very helpful officers, pulled over to help us. "There's a bike path 300 metres from here that goes all the way up to V*. There's a fine castle there, too. A bike path on an old converted railway goes to Luxembourg City -- it's not too big on a bike. I once did 125 kilometres in five hours," one of the officers tells us. "Is it a holiday in Germany tomorrow?" we ask. "No," he replied. "We don't celebrate losing." (It's Liberation Day in the rest of Europe. Guess they don't celebrate that one yet in Germany -- maybe in another 50 years.) Pulled our bikes to a halt and st on a park bench and watched the river slide by (I thinks it's moving). Lots of people out walking, enjoying the sun. A couple float by on an inflatable dinghy. She lounges while he paddles. They are both a matching shade of pink skin. A fella stops to ask questions. I speak English slowly as usual, since most people don't comprehend too well if I speak too fast. He is from Washington DC, in Germany on vacation. Ah. Good thing I was talking slow. "I learned English in school," he jokes. "Did you understand what I said?" I asked. "Yep," he responded, "nearly every word." The bike path took us through a 300 metre tunnel. It had lights along the ceiling, but it was still blinding to go from bright sun into a cave. My bike tire was rubbing on a bolt from my fender and I got a flat. The bolt rubbed a hole through my tire right where the bead fits onto the rim. That area of the tire is possibly the worst place for a tire to fall apart. It is practically impossible to boot. Since I have no new spare tire, we put an old piece of tire inside. Sharon has two spare tires, but they are the 700 mm size and are 4mm different diameter than my 27s, so they don't fit on my rim. I pumped the tire to 50 pounds instead of 85 as recommended. It lasted about fifteen minutes and then bulged out and started hitting my chainstay. I pulled my overloaded touring bike to a halt and pushed it to a bench by a soccer field we were near. Sharon had the idea of sewing the bead back onto the tire. I told her if I had some duct tape and a hammer, I could fix it. I've heard of sew-ups before, but this is ridiculous. I sewed it up and restuck the boot in. I pumped it to 35 pounds. "Don't hit any bumps too fast," Sharon cautioned. "Or else your rim is going to hit and you'll get a pinch flat." I hit the bumps slowly and with great finesse. I hope I can find a 27-inch tire in a land of 700s. We crossed the river from Luxembourg back over into Germany and followed a bike path up a steep hill. We found a free biking camp spot down in a meadow amongst thigh-high grass beneath an old apple tree with a few blossoms. We don't have any substantial food as all the stores were closed today for the holiday. We should have stocked up even more at Mammouth. How many kilometres does one get per chocolate bar? We saw some old folks looking like wilted flowers in the heat, being pushed around in wheelchairs trying to be rejuvenated by the spring sunshine. Saw a youngster on his first two wheeler with a neon yellow helmet bobbing over his eyes on his spring-mounted neck. Saw an extreme fat guy on a bike. He didn't have luggage. But he did have saddlebags. |
