From Freiburg to the Ferry (1 of 4)

In the spring of ‘95 I had ventured over to Germany to visit some old friends on their dairy farm. The area, Baden-Wurttenburg, is in between the Schwarzwald (Black Forest) and the Schwabisher Alb (German Alps). Sounds lovely doesn’t it? It is, with streams, forests and quaint little villages dotted around the landscape. In this area most of the villages end in ‘en’, eg, Aldingen, Trossingen, Tuttlingen. I think it means something like town.

My best friend over there, Uwe, was an outdoors man. Skiing, climbing, canoeing and cycling. You name it he can do it. He surprised me once when I asked him what soccer team he liked and he said that out in the country they don’t really care for soccer. That’s strange I thought, a German not liking soccer. Uwe explained that soccer was for city people and with so much to participate in out here they just weren’t interested. I did venture up a cliff once during my trip, a little 260 ft deal with views of the Danube valley. It scared the life out of me and I could see my future as a climber drifting off into the sunset.

After 2 months I finally decided that it was time to make my way back to England, though not by train as I had came. Bicycle was the obvious choice and Uwe was gung ho to set me up with a bicycle worthy of such an adventure. A friend of ours, Dieter, had a bike shop and was kind enough to let us meander through it picking up parts and tools as long as we told him what we kept. Uwe and I were assembling a new machine from the corpse of an old junker he had in the basement. It really was a pile of junk and I could tell it was going to be a challenge just to keep this thing running.

I was running low on cash and my plan was to cycle to the coast of France from where I could use the other half of my ferry ticket back. A couple of days before I was due to leave Uwe saw an ad in the paper for Toys’R'Us. They had a large kid’s bike for $120. We checked it out and it was the obvious thing to do. It may not be fancy but at least everything worked! I bought a couple of saddle bags and the next day we drove to a friend’s house in Freiburg, 20 miles from the French border. We stayed at the house of Axel, a guy who I had met before. Uwe had to leave the next morning so we went for a few beers and some Greek food at a place called the Acropolis. They had the best lamb I’ve ever eaten, cut it with a spoon! The next day Uwe left and I spent the day riding around on my new machine trying to get a look at Freiburg. Its a college town and was crawling with Borussia Dortmund fans. It was the last day of the German season and I was jealous that they were going to the game.

Next morning I said goodbye to Axel and hit the trail heading due west for the French border. Now having a ton of luggage and being a stubborn kind of fellow, I had managed to completely fill my saddle bags with books, clothes and stuff, etc. My backpack, which was also quite full, I was wearing. After about 1 hour 15 minutes I arrived at the river Rhine (if you’re German) or Rhone (if you’re French). There’s no customs check, but there is a booth where you can change money. I dumped the last of my Deutchmarks off into Francs and looked for a boulangerie (bread shop). I bought a pain (long loaf) and next door got a couple of pounds of sausage and a block of cheese. If I was to survive the rigors of a long journey I needed some serious fat.

My journey now took me north along the bank of the Rhone to Strasbourg. I must say that this ride was less than comfortable. There are several trailer parks for semi’s along this 70 mile ride and when those suckers haul past, you nearly get airborne. Right about this time I started to notice that the space between my legs was becoming extremely sore. Wonder if that 25lb pack had anything to do with it? Hours later I arrived in Strasbourg. After touring the city looking for an inexpensive place to stay I ended up at a local ‘pension’. This is a pub with rooms above. For $9 a night I was happy to crash there. At the dinner table I asked for a menu. The jolly French woman could not speak a word of English, but found her son, about 26, who could. He said it was late and if I wanted food I would have to settle for the general meal. I gladly agreed. After awhile this huge salad with cheese, ham, salami and bread basket came out. I wolfed it down, making sure that every scrap of bread was devoured. That was a pretty good belly full, I was thinking to myself when this massive plate with potatoes, vegetables and beef appeared. I couldn’t believe it. I would strongly recommend a pension to anyone else!

Next morning it was totally lashing down with rain. I could tell cycling would be hell, so I stayed another day. To drown my sorrows I bought a bottle of red wine and went for a stroll when the rain wasn’t so bad.

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