Category: cycle-touring

Day 8: Thülsfelde – De Krim

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.

Day 7: Bremen – Thülsfelde

Distance: 48.56 miles

Time: 4:12:09

Average Speed: 11.6 mph

Elevation Gain: 526 feet

I retraced my steps back along the mono-blocked cycle path from the night before, rounding the medieval moat, and making a beeline straight for the centre of the old town at the historic Marktplatz, framed by the 11th century St Peter’s Cathedral, and the 900 year old City Hall – complete with a statue to the Brothers Grimm’s ‘Town Musicians of Bremen’, at the front.

Although it was already after 1 PM, I needed to make an early stop, my power bank had been charging for most of the previous evening, but when I’d plugged my phone into it as I set off, it was completely flat, and my phone didn’t have enough charge for the day. Luckily there was a branch of the new-age traveller’s number one friend just off the square, and indeed I could charge my phone, watch my bike, and see a bit of the cathedral, as I tucked into my McDonald’s Big Tasty burger. Multi-tasking.

The time trial was already on, it was now quarter to three in the afternoon, and I’d hoped to manage, at least as far as Garrel, 40 miles away, and then find a campsite after that – unfortunately the going out of town was slow and laborious, the cycle lane being a narrow section of pavement, and regularly being interrupted by road crossings, until it was time to cut cross country in the direction of Mittelshuchting.

Back on the straight and narrow of a roadside cycle path, I worked my way along to Delmenhorst, pleased to be keeping my speed up over 11 mph, into the strong gusts.

On entering the pedestrianised centre of the town, I internally debated yet again about whether the sign meant the area was to be bike frei, or whether bikes were frei to use it, I think it means they’re free to use it, which makes little sense to me. Neither did the very rudimentary treadmill halfway down the street.

Powering on into the wind, as best I could, through tiny red brick villages, between fields of crops on tree-lined country lanes, it was all going so well, until I ground to a halt, quite literally, tyre bogged down in an ocean of soft powder-dry sand.

Having raced for half of the afternoon to reach the – seemingly – quite pleasant town of Garrel, I headed straight through and out the other side, heading for a glut of campsites near the vast Thülsfelde reservoir, and hoping that one had a late opening reception.

After the now all too usual, 5 mile sprint on rough tracks through a woodland, I reached the first campsite, Campingplatz Wilken, at 7:02, just as the owner was packing up. It seemed I’d found home for another night.

Day 6: Heidenau – Bremen

Distance: 54.39 miles

Time: 4:51:34

Average Speed: 11.2 mph

Elevation Gain: 616 feet

Arriving at the Ferienzentrum Heidenau campsite, I had a familiar issue to other days, the reception was closed and there was a number to call for late check ins. What was the code again, +45? I gave it a ring. No such number, I tried again, then a third time for luck, before remembering that I was in a different country now, the code for Germany was +49.

The site was charming, and although the man on the phone hadn’t really explained where I was to camp – just telling me to take the second turn on the right – I knew it when I saw it, the quaint duck pond, surrounded by trees and where a smattering of other tents were already set up.

Retracing my steps, the following morning, I continued by turning down some quiet country lanes, navigation aided by a couple of cyclists in the distance. eventually reaching Sittensen, where I hoped to stop at the supermarket to buy supplies, before quickly pressing on. My plan appeared to have been foiled when I passed a large Edeka superstore on the way in. It only appeared to be open from Montag to Samstag, and this was a Sonntag. It was the same story at both Aldi and Lidl, was I still in the 21st century I wondered? The answer was yes, and all the shops in Germany were closed on a Sunday.

Plans scuppered, I resigned myself to having to visit ‘Soul Kitchen’ for a Black Angus burger and sweet potato fries, it tasted pretty good, but I still wasn’t happy about it.

Much later than expected, I headed out of town, in the direction of Gross Meckelsen, the route winding its way between the fields. Open stretches into the wind were a chore and I was frustrated at how slowly the miles were ticking by, soon reverting to counting in kilometres instead.

Like Sittensen, the pedestrianised centre of the large town of Zeven was like a ghost town, and I noted that the roads were much quieter than they had been for the rest of the week, too.

I started aiming for the village after next as a ploy to keep myself on the bike a little longer between stops, from Kirchtimke, I skipped Westertimke and kept on rolling to Tarmstedt, where I paused briefly before turning onto Bremer Landstrasse, on the final approach to Bremen.

On reaching the city limits at Lilienthal, I briefly followed a tram into town, before the route skirted north around a large pond on the outskirts and down a busy mono-blocked cycle path, towards the old town.

Skirting around the inside of the city walls, I past the Kunsthalle Bremen art gallery and crossed the Weser river onto a large river island, or Werder (from where the local football team get their name) to reach the Reisemobil Stellplatz campground. The reception was closed, and the windows of the building featured a barrage of information, in German, that even my trusty translate app could not make head nor tail of.

With the time ticking beyond half past 7 at night, I didn’t have a lot of time to spare, so quickly phoned the next nearest campsite, HanseCamping Bremen, some 5 miles away, and back in the direction I’d just come, to see if I could stay there. Ja, was the quick reply, but you’ll need to get here by 8.

Spinning the pedals as fast as my legs would allow, I ploughed back through the centre of the Bremen old town, before ending up on a different route out of town, through a forest on a rough gravel track – the affect on my tyres, not something I’d be worrying about right now.

Almost taken by surprise, I arrived at the site by the back door, rushing into the reception at 19:56, I couldn’t believe I’d managed the 5 mile route in under 23 minutes. At best the proprietor looked bemused, what was all the fuss about?

Still to have dinner, I tried the restaurant at the door of the campsite, but they had stopped serving, so I cycled back to Landhaus Kushiel, a pleasantly situated restaurant – with beer terrace overlooking the canal – that I had passed on the way in several hours ago, but although its opening hours were until 11, it was already closed, at 9 o’clock.

Finally, after a 5 mile round trip, I found an Italian, Bellini im Tresor, at the far side of the large University campus, they were still serving, and when they did, it was worth the wait. I had tagliatelle with beef and girolle mushrooms in a truffle sauce, all washed down with a pleasant, citrusy, half litre of Alster beer. I was relieved to finally get my fuelling started for tomorrow.

Day 5: Hamburg – Heidenau

Distance: 31.31 miles

Time: 3:31:08

Average Speed: 8.9 mph

Elevation Gain: 940 feet

The hotel in Hamburg was showing the late match of Portugal vs France on the big screen, so I had a few glasses of bier vom fass, oblivious to the fact that the match was happening just a few miles away.

Awakening the next morning, I was readying myself to cycle the 3 miles across town to run my first international Parkrun, at Alstervorland park, then at 3 minutes to 9, I suddenly remembered that Parkruns in Germany started at 9, not half past, like back home in Scotland. I had been remembering, until I wasn’t. It was probably for the best I thought, I could definitely use the extra sleep, but, knowing that some of my more bloodthirsty readers would be disappointed in me for giving up so easily, I readied to go anyway, at least to see the course.

Arriving at the course, they’d already begun tidying the signs for the opening part of the course away, so even if I had wanted to attempt it, I wouldn’t know where to start. Unless… I opened the route map on the Parkrun website on my phone, and started to piece together the route from what I’d seen, then thought I may as well give it a go! 26 minutes later I’d managed to stumble my way around the course, ending up with a little too much distance, but my attempt at the Parkrun course was close enough to register as an ‘Alstervorland Parkrun’ segment attempt on Strava. It would have been a nice run too, flat on firm gravel paths, and beside a lovely lake.

Back on the road, it was becoming clear that Hamburg was more a city of industry than culture, as I passed through a world of concrete and iron, and billowing chimneys. The cycle path, while serving its main purpose of keeping me off the road well, was causing me some irritation as it meandered around the pavement, then across to the opposite pavement, then onto the road and back again.

Stopping at a busy flea market by the canal, I hoped to get some lunch before leaving the city confines. When the only option was a Nutella crepe, I kept on moving, before stopping for a pizza just off the main road in the bustling suburb of Harburg.

As I began to push on, the route started to take liberties, the path throwing up a short spell of gravel through the trees, maybe a forewarning of what was to come, namely the road out of Sottorf leading into the Buchenwälder im Rosengarten Forest where the road started to climb up a rough stony track, this would be lovely, I thought, if I wasn’t on a loaded bike with road tyres.

Keen to avoid the inevitable spate of punctures, I briefly considered turning back and finding another way, before opting to get off and walk, and hoping that soon the surface would change. Fortunately, on reaching the top of the climb, half a mile later, I was delighted when the route turned left onto a chunky concrete road.

Relieved at finally rejoining the main road once more, I enjoyed the smooth surface, and the shade of the trees, until the cover ended, when I was left ploughing on into the full force of the gusting 30 mile an hour winds, and a fierce sun.

Clouding over, as I reached Hollenstedt, I made for the supermarket just as the rain began, and as I consumed a tub of fresh raspberries in front of the store, a lady pulled up on a very fancy-looking Reise and Muller E-bike, and although I had no barometer at all for what was regarded as a good bike in Germany, I was pretty sure this would be high on the list.

When the lady reappeared from the shop, she gestured that it was good that the rain had stopped, and she was right, I should probably be on my way.

Taking the road to the tiny villlage of Ochtmannsbruch, the road had run out before I was out the other side, first turning to rough old cobble stones, before they in turn gave way to loose stones on a sandy base.

All these factors having added up, the race to not run a Parkrun, then running it anyway, the days of ploughing on into these stiff prevailing winds, the lack of sleep, the heat of the sun, and now being bounced around on these infernal surfaces of varying quality, meant I was undoubtedly in need of a rest. So, having passed through the small town of Heidenau, and on seeing a sign to a nearby campsite, with tent camping round a pretty duck pond, and a Greek restaurant on site, I knew it was time to stop.