Distance: 69.1

Time: 5:20

Average Speed: 13 mph

Elevation Gain: 303 feet

‘Morgen’, I’d responded as I passed the couple’s tent, or had it been ‘morning’? And had they said ‘morgen’ or had they said ‘moin’, apparently the popular guten morgen contraction in northern Germany, used at any time of the day. It was my last morning trying to figure out that little conundrum, as all things being well, tomorrow I’d be in the Netherlands. There was one thing that was certainly well, the wind was coming from the east, for the first time on the whole trip.

After leaving the campsite, I rolled through the trees, passing families struggling to get to grips with their rental bikes, as I went. I was in a positive mindset, it was half past 10 in the morning, the forecast was for sunshine all day, and from time to time there might be a little breeze on my tail.

At Neumarkhausen, I went forwards and back trying to locate the tiny lane to Bischofsbrück, before finding it hiding behind a tree. It was a lovely road for cycling, no traffic, sparsely populated with farm buildings, and what was that, an ice cream vending machine in a shed?

After almost 10 miles, I reached the small town of Vrees where I’d intended to stop for breakfast, but with newfound energy saved from not having to battle the elements, I decided to push on to Werlt, 5 miles further on.

Passing my first windmill of the trip, on the way into town, I ended up doing a large loop of the centre, as, having hoped to reach Lidl at one end of town, my progress was barred by substantial roadworks on the high street, and I ended up at Aldi at the other end, instead.

With 15 miles in the bank, it was next stop Meppen, 20 miles away. But, as I was looking forward to reaching another country, it felt like Germany was petering out, most facilities were closed, the cyclists I passed were even more stubbornly ignoring me, and the cycle path had become rutted and strewn with grit and stones.

The roads being quiet, I took a turn on those for a while, until, on the final stretch into Meppen, a line of trucks – being held up by a tractor – was coming the other way. The lorry drivers knew where best to vent their frustration, the lone cyclist was their problem, angrily gesticulating at me to get off the road.

The Netherlands couldn’t come soon enough, was my less than generous response, but I soon paused for thought on reaching the pleasant town of Meppen, stopping for a late lunch, on a riverside terrace, before pushing on for the last few miles to the border.

Having reached the Netherlands, it was job done for the day, it was now about gaining an extra few miles while the going was good. It had been a perfect cycling day, 28°C, and that elusive tailwind.

Instantly, the Netherlands felt a little different, more peaceful, some agricultural land traded for animals in the fields, a two-way superhighway of a bike lane, and a few cyclists even said ‘hoi’.

Next stop was Coevorden, notable because its layout was based on the ‘ideal city’ plan, of a star fort with radial streets – such as Palmanova in Italy – and also because the family name of Van Coevorden furnished the City of Vancouver with its name, which I’ll admit, is not something I knew when I cycled through there.

I carried on for another 5 miles along the canal, to the sprawling village of De Krim, knowing there to be a small campsite, both very close to the route, and also, after – very nearly – 70 miles, which would be a very satisfactory figure for the day.

On reaching, ‘Camping de Boergondier’, it was only quarter past 6, but still too late for reception, we’re just preparing dinner, said the lady on the phone, but just set up, and I’ll be out to see you later.

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