Grein

Saturday September 24th
In Which Paul Gets a Grein Pain

Like just about every previous day, the morning dawned clear, cool and fine. We rode out from Linz along the riverside bike path till we reached the large park area that serves as Linz' main recreation region. A few of us decided to ride around the lake while the rest waited on the bike path. The problem was that,when we returned to the path in about 10 minutes time, there was no sign of the rest of the riders. We searched in vain for some time but they were nowhere to be seen. We had to assume that they had ridden on for a little distance and were waiting for us. They weren't.

We eventually rode on for over 10 km without seeing any of the missing riders. I was starting to get concerned,but eventually we caught them when they had made a wrong turn and were heading out over a weir in the Danube. They seemed unconcerned and explained simply that they "knew we would find them".

This day involved an option to ride up to the site of the WW2 Mauthausen Concentration Camp. Most of the riders decided not to make this detour as they did not want to see the absolute depravity that was evidenced there. We met up with with Ken, John and Gonny who were enjoying coffee and apricot cake while some of the riders were at the camp.

We then followed the Danube along an elevated levee bank for quite a distance before finding a lovely lunch spot about 10 km before Grein. Although the small town looked deserted, Carol disappeared into a small bar and emerged a couple of minutes later with a look of triumph on her face. Somehow she had used her fluent gibberish to persuade the proprietor to re open the closed supermarket and make us all sandwiches for lunch. It was one of those amazing events that makes travel just so much fun.

We were soon all sitting on the grass eating our lunches of cheese rolls, drinks and sweets,

The final few km into Grein would have been absolutely delightful if about 100 trillion tiny bugs had not chosen that same afternoon for their annual outing. We struggled along with these tiny insects in our eyes, hair, faces, mouths, ears and clothing. It really was hard to see where we were going or to concentrate on our riding.

We were all relieved to finally reach Grein and get some relief from the onslaught. Grein is a lovely town that I remembered fondly from my previous rides along this section. On this occasion we discovered that it must have been home to every aging motorcycle rider within a 200 km radius. They were all gathered in the open space near the ice cream shop and took turns to leave the car park with as much noise and spectacle as they could. It was NOT a quiet way to enjoy the town.

Because the hotels in this small town were not large enough to accommodate all of us in a single location we had to split between two hotels about 600metres apart. The evening meal was at the other hotel, meaning that a small group of us formed a walking peloton to walk to the other hotel. That was OK in the daylight, but when the time came for us to return in the dark , it was another story.

We were groping our way along a narrow, dark cobblestoned alleyway when I heard an almighty crash behind me.One of our walkers had taken a serious fall. My immediate thoughts were "Oh no, not another broken leg" (We had two on our last overseas ride).

We found that Paul had crashed heavily and was lying on the ground dazed. He proceeded to wipe away the blood and progressively examine each of his ancient limbs looking for protruding bones or missing pieces. After a little time of such examination, he announced that it was only a flesh wound and staggered back up on his feet. It could have been much more serious, but he would live to continue the ride another day.Leia mais