A great nights sleep and a lovely morning. Temperatures forecast for 27°C and the route not anticipated in my pre-planning (which made me a bit apprehensive).
The road led out of Rhienbach. It proved to be bigger than I thought having stopped at the first good looking bar the previous night (and the B&B being in the direction I had come from). A nice town.
The countryside immediately on leaving was as before. Fields of trees and shrubs destined for the garden centres of Europe. The cycling was fantastic. The road flat between avenues of trees with excellent cycle ways. Here the cycle track is in the left if the road.
.... and so it continued, and continued, and continued! I couldn't believe it. Small village after small village flew by. Where were the hills? At about 11:45 I was thirsty and the day was warm. A sign indicated that the town of Düren was 22 km away. Another "Lord of the Rings" reference (I thought) and Dwarves love beer! It had to be a sign (metaphorical - it was, of course, literally one). I determined to push on.
Well read individuals will haven spotted my beer-deprived spelling mistake. It is, of course, Durin, not Duren, and inevitably my punishment for misreading the runes was a dry town.
I pressed on. Another short aside now. Along the journey I have come across six or seven memorials, involving makeshift crucifixes, by the side of the road. They all seem to be dedicated to cyclists. Here is one I passed after Düren.
This particular one was on a unprotected road but many are in quiet cycle ways. They appear to be mostly German in origin. I have presumed that, natural causes or cars, it's where the grim reaper caught up with someone and he/she fell from a two wheeled perch into the ditch. It is not the first trip I have encountered these. This rather pretty one is in Spain from my cycle of the Camino de Santiago. The cross label says "Von Fruenden für Willi" which translates to From Fruenden to Willi. It is by a quiet path and Willi could have been a foot pilgrim or cyclist. Who knows. Something to think about and a bit spooky.
The casual morning and early afternoon left my mind available for wandering. There was clearly an election going on with lampposts adorned with posters of hopefuls trying to appear honest and competent (and signally failing in both). I decided they were wanted posters and tried to guess their crimes. They are: serial killers (1, possibly 2), homicidal hospital nurse (1), embezzling accountant (1), juvenile petty thief (Godbe- type in Porridge for British readers), Donald Trump lookalike (illegal in all European jurisdictions except Monaco and Luxembourg) (1). On the subject of Donald I mused on the matter of the Hans Christian Anderson tale of the Kings New Clothes. Surely I thought, his aides must recognise the ridiculous nature of his......... but just pretend (opposite to the original) that it is invisible. I hesitate to mention his exact style faux pas in print just in case he becomes president and the immigration service adds "president mocking" to the list of self confession tick-boxes when you fly into the U.S. Being asked to voluntarily confess you are a terrorist or have been convicted of "moral turpitude" is bad enough. For baffled readers who whose first language is not English don't worry. The FAA specify that all inbound aircraft have to have emergency dictionaries available for filling in the form - they are under the seat next to the life vest!
You can see I had too much time on my hands! While waiting for a town with a bar I returned to the poems of Rupert Brooke and was pleasantly suprised that in spite of being unable to correctly remember characters from epic fantasy novels I could remember quite a few poems. The Wayfarers, The Beginning, Dust, Love, Kindliness and the sonnets "I said I splendidly loved You" and "Oh death will find me" we're all remembered pretty much perfectly. Oh, the benefits of Altzhiemers! By this time I was in Eschweiler, a town outstandingly well furnished with adult refreshment establishments. I chose a square with bars on three sides (and a church on the fourth) and reacquainted myself with the merits of Aperol Spritz.
Returning to the road my musings were disturbed by the sudden, and noisy, breaking of Betty's chain. A broken chain is never good. Without the right tools it is a disaster. I had sent my spare chain back to England when I lightened my load in Bergamo but had, fortunately, kept the chain tool and a few spare links. 20 nervous minutes later it was fixed and having cleaned up I was back on the road. Now a little nervous as another breakage would be very bad as it now late Saturday afternoon and, as is usual, the following day Sunday. Not much chance if a bike shop. A check on Google regarding expected chain life (in miles) was not comforting as I had exceeded most of the forum opinions.
Soon after, I think since there are no border posts, I entered the Netherlands. This was suggested by road signage and the disappearance of a 3G data signal on my phone. This was an issue that was to persist and have consequences (the phone not the signs).
Just before Maastricht, having encountered no hills worth the name, I cycled through the lovely town of Valkenburg which, on a Saturday, in clearly a tourist trap. I wanted to get to Maastrict to try to sort out my evening arrangements so I didn't stop. It does however, and once again proving I should not speak too soon, have a nasty hill just outside it on the Maastricht side!
Just before 17:00, having traversed my destinations unlovely approaches I was crossing the bridge into my the town.
Now the consequences of lack of data access ion my phone kicked in. The tendon in the back if my right knee, which had been sore all day, was giving me concern that it would stiffen when I stopped. As a result I considered catching the train to Brissels given the knee/chain issues but at the train station information was closed and Google translate doesn't work without Internet. Neither do searches for accommodation. To McDonalds or Starbucks for the Internet (which I had usually found using 3G and Google Maps which, obviously, were unavailable). However, my native cunning and experience led me to one - where the Internet was only working very intermittently, or not at all. Had a Big Mac. Mmmmmm, need to regroup and rethink.
The streets of downtown Masstricht were filling with Saturday night revellers. It is a town where al fresco eating and drinking is very popular. I recalled that I had the Fon hotspot app on my phone and the GPS was not data dependent. I won't go into the nature of the Fon community but I had been a member for years. The app showed a hotspot 75 meters away but without data (and therfore no map) I couldn't know which direction. Systematic wandering enabled me to find it. My user ID and password (never tested in years) worked first time. It was now about 19:30. I was a bit low. The countryside I had traversed was pretty but unchanging and uninteresting. There was the promise of the same tomorrow. My tendon was sore and my chain suspect. I decided to see if I could get home tomorrow. The Eurostar website showed that the first service on Sunday was popular with only four (of the expensive, but lowest price) tickets left. Could I get my bike on? The site didn't allow online bike reservation. Would the telephone number answer at 8:00 in the evening? YES - and the gentleman spoke English and assured me that the bike would be no problem and they were open 24/7. Result! Now to book online. Filled in endless details and got to payment and it wouldn't accept either of my Visa Debit cards. Tried several times. No go. Now 8:30 and frustrated. Aaaagggggh! I have a MasterCard (in the safe at home) but I had the encrypted details on my phone. Crossed fingers and toes and tried. BINGO! I had a place but not, apparently, a seat which the success message kindly told me and apologised for. Who cares? I had pedalled 110km (68 miles) and had to repeat that before 7:30 the following morning.
Left the Saturday night revellers and headed West, past the hordes of festive drinkers and diners, into the setting sun. This exit from Maastricht was nicer than the entry from the East.
A crescent moon was out and it was still 23°C according to a roadside display. The lady from TomTom guided me through a zigzag of farm field roads with the tractors, multiple lights bright, working late and cats from local villages hunting. My lights, used in anger for the first time, were excellent. I nursed the battery on my iPhone throughout the night (my Dynamo powered lights have a USB charger than only keeps up with the phone if the display/data/Bluetooth/Wi-Fi is turned off) because I needed power for the Eurostar confirmation email in the morning.
The road was good, mostly with bike paths, and ran up and down countless gentle low ridges. The moon set and the night cooled. I got hot going up and cold going down. Night was clear, nearly windless, and my morale excellent. Don't think about how far to go! Break it into bits. How about a beer at midnight. Those in favour?✋🏽
11:45 pulled into the town of Sint-Truden and found bars open. Had a small pils and ate half a bar of chocolate I had been saving for such an occasion (Lindt 70% Cocao solids, salted caramel). Locals very baffled. Set off again. Took a Selfie, morale very high.
Same gently rising and falling roads. 1am, 2am, 3am - some villages still had the occasional bar going. One had a club with very nicely dressed girls spotted through the glass. At 2:30 I went through a completely silent and dark village where there was the wonderful smell of baking bread. Somewhere someone was getting the bread made for the Sunday morning locals breakfasts! Kept wondering if I was in Belgium yet. In fact I had been in Belgium almost immediately after leaving Maastricht!
Around 3am I entered the city of Leuven. It is the home of Annhueser-Busch, the worlds largest brewing group! It was rocking! Streets busy, bars open. As I entered the centre a cyclist passed me going fast. 20 feet ahead of me he hit the kerb and wiped out. It was a horrible crash and he had no helmet. Just me and him. He was conscious (how?), bleeding and moaning. He gave me the emergency number (100 in Belgium) and the agent spoke English. I was trying to describe where we were (I'm a stranger and the Flemish street names are unpronounceable!). This was not going as smoothly as desired and the poor chap was audibly hurting. Fortunately two local girls came by and I gave them my phone to complete things. Job done they (a few other who had gathered) said they would stay with him and I moved on.
Leuven looked like it would be lovely in daylight. Here is my one picture of the town.
This is what it looks like in the day (taken from Wikipedia). It is the town hall.
Fancied another drink. Met Thomas and his friends and drank with them. He had just returned from a bike tour of the North of Scotland. In summer! Suprised he hadn't got hyperthermia.Not far to go now.
Brussels is a big city. It starts to get a lot of traffic early - even on a Sunday. It has a very confusing street pattern. Many streets are cobbled (badly). The Eurostar rail terminal is in an area where the Rottweilers only travel in pairs! It is not adequately signposted, I was tired, and my knee was hurting. I wanted the journey done and the world was conspiring against me. It took a long time to find the station which is large and, at 5:30 am on a Sunday, not staffed. The terminal is hard to findwithin the station and is, as far as I could see, not signposted at all. Eventually I found it. It was still closed. With some effort found the separate Euro Despatch office for my bike. Handing over Betty was straightforward.
The rest was easy, just a matter of waiting and the usual border requirements. Boarded the train and with a sense of relief left. Once on the way a very nice guard spotted my lack of a seat and took me to an empty first class carriage and invited me to sit. Thank you. Another kind person. Too distracted to mark the leaving with a photo - I made amends at the first stop, Lille.
On the train I reserved a seat for me and a place for Betty on the 10:45 train North. Eurostar arrived 10 minutes late but no problem. Euro Despatch in Brussels failing to use the three hours they had available to move Betty 50 meters into the train was a problem. She was still in Brussels. Here are my lonely bags looking for Betty outside Euro Despatch in London. So near, but so far. Missed the train North (obviously).
Betty came on the next Eurostar train (arriving 13:00) and I caught the 13:28 a north from Euston. Pretty tired by now. Arrived in Preston where a storm of Biblical proportions soaked me and Sammy as we loaded the bike onto the car.
Two last Lord of the Rings references. The last sentence of the three books, spoken by Sam, was repeated by me when I got into the house: He drew a deep breath "Well, I'm back" he said. 😊
Finally, a line that I wanted painting on Betty's top tube but never got done. It is from the poem All that is gold does not glitter, that appears twice in the first book of the Lord of the Rings and captures, I think, the spirit of the trip. "Not all those who wander are lost" (well, most of the time!)
That's it! I'll write a short epilogue when I've had a few days to reflect. many, many heartfelt thanks to those who followed me on the blog or Facebook and especially to those who write comments etc. I was never alone.
Read this Jan 2016 - How very entertaining. Never knew you are a Lord of the rings expert- some lovely references , conjuring up the feel of the journey. Meet for coffee son, Peter
ReplyDeletesoon ( not son!)
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