In which Sid and Doris ride east in the rain, just days behind a storm that has left plenty of signs of floods.
It is as well we did not set off a couple of days earlier.
Today may mark the current limits of Sid and Doris’ maximum effort given the weight of bikes and weediness of legs. The vital statistics are:
Distance: 107 kilometres
Climb: 1089 metres
Weather: Mostly from the west but with rain left over from storm Axel, with associated flooding
This epic journey is a light weight expedition and setting out from Geseke without waterproof trousers felt slightly intrepid. Sid has been using Google translate to find the German equivalent of the Scots’ “dreich”. Something like klaudsundnieselnebelwerfernfing, but this is not definitive.
Plenty of purpose-built cycle routes, some more splendid than others. We cycled along concrete tracks laid in approximately 3m sections with the tyres going badoomp…. badoomp…. badoomp. Amusing for a paragraph here, gets a bit tedious after a few km, and is terribly prone to inducing Earworms as we sing along to it.
Misery loves company and we found happy company at a combo bakery, cafe and little shopi. Two Frieslander cyclists en route to Prague on the Prague Cycle Route (what else) and they were not miserable. They had a stage by stage map book and a cunning route that minimises climb. However they were no wimps, no indeed… they were camping (and last night it wetted down). And it rained on and off all day with our tops dry and our bottoms .. enough Miftah Bat about Bottoms. In fact Miftah Bat saw an excellent sign and we are still putting up with his giggling as he tries to get Doris to included it in a post for him.
In a day unpacked with incident Sid came across a mile marker.
We, Sid and Doris, like running along in kilometres as they zip past (oh, how they zip by uphill in the rain). The early 19th century Prussian mile was 24,000 feet or about 7,500 metres. Metrication was often imposed at the same time as political junction of previously independent states. See Italian unification and the fuss made in the UK on joining the EEC about pints of beer and whelks plus the hopeless confusion as petrol moved to litres. Still better than those US gallons. Faux amis.
The car collection today was about small cars. Two Trabants, an in feasibly small British car about 10 feet long, or three metres and a disembowelled Peugeot 304. What is that doing here? In the end Sid went for a late 1970s Mercedes 350SL as the seat looked very comfy and the habitical seemed dry.
The nature book today has few entries. We saw a fine red, white and black bird which might have been a woodpecker. The best item was the giant albino snail. He/she (early proponents of gender confusion) is shown with no context to allow for fear and wonderment.
In a rare moment on the level (one for the Masons among you) we came across a repurposed railway station. Sid’s father’s side lived in Edlingham railway station during the secondwar. Edlingham did not draw bombers like the Kassel factories. 90% of Kassel was destroyed. Edlingham survived untouched by the activities of the late 20th century. The station got electricity in about 1974 but we still had to pump the water and take it in bucket to the kitchen, set out in the booking hall.
Sid and Doris flogged on through the rain. Sometimes on velvet tar and then offered forest tracks. At one point today the mapping took us off a road, under the road and pointed up a field path that would have been the very thing for a production car trial, or perhaps a motocross bike. What is that parp brained device thinking? AI has some way to go. And so did we.
The final few kilometres were poisoned with farm tracks and contour. This is not what the people want at five o’clock. But now we are in. Washed, washing done, future hotels chosen and ready for the local delicacies in the place you would be brought for ‘authentic’. No, not giant snails but herring and Ahle Wurscht. We are not afraid.