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August 29 Tuesday rainy Bicycle touring Germany We bicycled a road around a lake until it ended in a parking lot. A sand route, a path really, with a sign pointing to Warren, Germany, looked more like a hiking route than a bicycle touring road. We turned our loaded touring bicycles around and cycled back the way we had come as rain began. We asked about a road through the National Park and were assured it was "Gud, ja." We set off happily on our loaded touring bikes. The first bit was fantastic cycling, but then the road we were riding turned into a beach. My gosh, there was so much sand, I kept looking for an ocean. They must spend millions of "douche marks," as Arran has taken to calling the German money, to haul all this sandy stuff in just to frustrate touring cyclists. Somewhat surprising, for me anyway, is that the road we are haplessly bicycling is marked as a cycle route. That's probably because no sane car driver would try to navigate it. Several times we hit large loose sandy patches that made our touring bikes carve elegant curves into the sandy road. It is akin to riding a loaded touring bike on ice. Several times we were reduced to pushing our beasts of burden when we became so bogged down in loose sand that we couldn't turn one pedal stroke. Even by our slow bicycle touring standards, it took an inordinately long time to go a couple of kilometres. Even through a town the main street was sand. Hugest sand trap I've ever seen. We finally hit asphalt. I wondered if I should make like the pope and get down to kow-tow it. We pulled our touring bikes to a stop and had lunch at a one picnic table site, set in a large fenced grassy field. We actually waited for the family sitting at the table to leave and then we grabbed it. We sat out a passing thundershower under a leaky roof. A worker passed by carrying a rake on her shoulder. She hardly looked wet. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a puddle of water with rain dripping down my back. It felt like I was sitting inside a leaky umbrella. We were planning on finding a free camp spot along the canal, but as soon as Arran and I started along the bank a man whistled us back and said "Nein." We bicycled away and found a place in the forest up another sandy road. The only traffic to pass our bicycle touring tents were four horse riders. Binning only saw a broken jar of mustard. Slow day. Sharon said, "Sleep in a bus shelter one night and look what happens to you." |
