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Good Bike, Bad Flat In the morning Anke made coconut tea. A good thing-I was nearly dehydrated from all that stair climbing. After another Bavarian breakfast of bread, cold cuts and jams (we were definitely getting our quota of bread), Anke guided us out of Kempten along river trails to an old railway converted into a cycle path. The pitch before the rail path was extra exciting. Anke sped downhill on her fancy aluminum mountain bike. We followed at breakneck speed with our weighty packs and discovered, with some alarm, that it was gravel at the bottom. I steered off onto the grass on my first bumpy detour of the day. Anke rode with us for quite some distance, then, looking at her watch, she pointed us on our way and returned home in time to make lunch for her mother and sister. Sharon, Sherry and I continued along the river, gazing across at the green fields in Austria, following cycle routes for over half of our total distance-perfect for Sherry's knee since there were no steep hills. At Seltmans we were forced to leave the cycle path and ride on secondary roads again. We had one very steep hill into Rothenbach. Sherry declared she still hated hills. I thought Sharon had a blood sister in that regard. Peter and Andreas (the touring cyclists we had met the day before we arrived in Pegnitz) lived in an old farmhouse as promised. When we arrived Peter showed us the itchy red rash he was sporting on both arms. He had just finished a job making some spare money for their Thailand trip (they were leaving in two weeks to cycle there for three months) and had just finished chopping 400 kilos of rotten cabbage for animal food. We stored our bikes in the garage with theirs. Of course, their car was outside-there was only room for bikes. Peter showed us the triangle bags he had made for their bikes. They looked heavyduty and were much larger than piddly commercial ones. Peter played the harmonica in a blues band and had a bandstand set up in his living room, complete with drums and guitars. If we had arrived a day earlier we would have been treated to a live performance by all the other band members. Peter cooked up the biggest pot of rice I have ever seen, accompanied by a curry vegetable stir fry. Peter and Andreas were vegetarians. Peter asked if we ate meat. "Whenever I can get it," I said. "That's good," Peter replied, "because you aren't getting any tonight." Sherry and Peter diced up still more vegetables to put in with the rice. I thought he was making enough rice to feed a regiment of the Chinese army. While we made a (small) dent in the rice pot, Peter entertained us with tales of cycling in India and Thailand. Peter used to be a photographer, but found it too difficult to make a decent living. His pictures hung everywhere in the flat. They were amazing. He had remarkable shots of himself in India and Nepal. As I started to go for my shower Peter warned to make sure I kept the curtain inside the tub enclosure or else the neighbor downstairs would get flooded out. "I have a good bike, but a bad flat," he laughed. That was what happened when one spent all their free money on bike toys. It could be our last night for showers in a while, so we all tried to savor it. We discussed Greece, India and Thailand. It was great to talk to other cyclists who had actually been there and done that. Not like the helpful comments from most noncyclists: "Watch for cars." Duh. Peter diligently pored over our route plans, talking about the best way over the pass and how lucky we had been with the weather. We were experiencing the warmest autumn in a decade. Were Arran and Rebecca near? |
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