Donauwörth

Wednesday September 14th
In Which I Make a Lovely Surprise Discovery

I should have known that the day would work out well. After all it is not every day that the very first email you open brings you the incredible news that you have just won 500,000 pounds in the English Lottery. Considering that I didn't even have a ticket in the lottery, I guessed that it was a true miracle as well as a dose of good fortune.

At least I didn't have to worry about the weather. We have learned that we are stuck in a meteorological time warp where every day is exactly the same as all the others before it. Of course it was to be another day of unbroken sunshine and a temperature in the mid 20s.

Today's ride was a modest ride of only 40 km, with no climbs or serious challenges. I assembled the team in the hotel car park at 8.30 am and asked which riders wanted to bolt and which wanted to dawdle

Once again the riders divided into the same groups as they had for the previous few days. It appears that, once you are a bolter or a dawdler, the condition cannot be treated.

There were also several independently minded riders, who preferred to do the ride as individuals. To avoid confusion I sent off the first group and then waited for quite a while before guiding the team of expert dawdlers down towards the Danube. Since this was to be the 12th cycling day of our adventure, all team members now have cast iron bums and are extremely fit. We were very confident that the day would be an easy one.

The first 10 km of the ride took us right along the shady river bank. Although the track was unsealed and a little loose, it made for exceptional cycling in the cool of the early morning. At one point we approached a group of 4 middle aged walkers. I sounded my bell courteously to warn them our approach. You could imagine my utter surprise as their leader shouted a loud "Achtung" and they all sprang to attention on either side of the track, making a safe path for us to pass. German discipline never ceases to amaze me.

Quite soon we reached the town of Hochstadt, famous for its big castle

We rode into the Main St of the town only to find that the riders from the first group were still eating their first cream cakes of the day. It was still only 9.30 am and the museum apparently did not open till 2 pm in the afternoon. We thought for about 3 seconds before deciding to give that one a miss.

The famous castle was only a few hundred metres further down the road. Although the original structure had been erected hundreds of years ago, it had been so thoroughly restored (ie rebuilt) that it looked brand new. I was reminded of the famous tale of grandpa's axe. It had been fitted with 8 new handles and 4 new heads as it was passed down from generation to generation, but it somehow remained a significant family heirloom.

I paid the lady at the front desk 3.5 Euros and entered the building. The inside was painted stark white, and gave almost no indication of the real history of the building. In fact it looked like any other modern art gallery. I found that a little disappointing, but Maggie loved the place. I then set out to explore the building and it did not take long before I fell foul of the first female guide (or was it guard ?). I was instructed that "I was going the wrong way". Obviously they expected every visitor to walk in step and follow the same path

That only made me a little more determined to go my own way.
I turned a corner and started up a staircase. A voice came from nowhere and informed me that it was the "wrong staircase", It was only for going down (even though there was no up or down sign and it looked perfectly safe to me). Then another guide came and asked for my ticket. I didn't have it - Maggie had it. More demerits scored. "Walk that way", I was told. Over the next few minutes I was frog marched from guard to guard like the naughty schoolboy on his way to have a chat to the headmaster.

Eventually I was led to a large auditorium on the top floor. Apparently that is where all well behaved visitors MUST start. There was nothing there, it was a boring room. I made my escape and started doing the unthinkable - exploring on my own. On this level there were a succession of rooms outlining the histories of the major dynasties of Europe. You quickly learned that, for hundreds of years, the royalty of Europe had occupied themselves with arranging marriages, having inbred children, entertaining their mistresses and waging wars against each other.

One large animated display showed the unfolding of the Battle of Blenheim in 1704.

It seemed that, with every toss of the dice, hundreds more young soldiers were slaughtered on the battlefield. All the while the royalty followed the progress of the battle like onlookers at a chess tournament. It somehow made me feel intensely sad as I contemplated the utter stupidity and futility of war. My grandfather, who had fought at Gallipoli and then gone on to help form the Bicycle Battalion in WWI, would only use the term "cannon fodder" whenever I asked him about his wartime experiences. Some things never change.

After an hour in the castle I had seen enough. I emerged into the bright light and waited for the others to join me. I wanted to get moving again.

I was a little apprehensive when the guide notes warned that there were "no food stops between Hochstadt and Donauworth". Our group of 8 riders headed off, expecting that we would have to ride straight through to the next hotel at Donauworth. We did pass through a couple of small towns, each with its own big church, but no cafe. I have learned to classify such towns as "rubbish towns".

It was beginning to look like the notes were correct, and that all the towns would prove to be rubbish towns.

It was only when we reached the third such little town that we stopped to have a look at a small baby horse that was in a front garden. As the women were admiring the cute little thing a huge dog (much bigger than the horse) came bounding out and almost lept over the fence at us. It was enough for us to need a change of riding knicks. We jumped back on the bikes and started moving again.
It looked like yet another rubbish town, but it wasn't.

At this time of the year the apple trees of Germany are all laden with their delicious fruit. The trees that are near the bike path provide free sustenance for hungry cyclists. If you are clever you can even pick a perfect apple, straight from the tree, without even stopping. I introduced this apple eating tradition to our riders. At least we would not go completely hungry.

A little further on I stopped to allow the group to bunch up again and a local chap started to ask where we were going. Since he didn't speak a single word of English (and probably not much German either) it was not easy, but somehow we spent some time chatting and learning all about his life story. He was most impressed when he found that we were riding to Budapest. Such a feat was unheard of in that town.

When the group was ready to move on, I decided to do a loop around the block, just to see what was there.

I rode past a funny little place that might have been a shop, however it looked like it had been shut for years. The others followed me down the street and I had a look in the window. To my utter amazement it was open. I was even more amazed when we entered the shop to find that it was actually a very modern bakery, complete with coffee machine, all manner of cakes, bread, sandwiches and drinks. The notes had proven to be completely wrong. This was definitely NOT a rubbish town after all.

We stocked up on food and then settled down in the shady park in the centre of town for a picnic lunch. The day was warming up and it would have been tempting to have a siesta, but we knew that we still had 25 km to go. While we were sitting there Maggie noticed something approaching at very high speed.
"Look at that", she said. I turned just in time to see Janna and Douglas flying through at warp speed. We waved and shouted, but our efforts were in vain. They were obviously riding to meet some sort of deadline. It reminded me of those crowds that line the streets of France to see the Tour de France peloton fly past.
In a few seconds it was all over and the two riders were already disappearing in the distance.

"Maybe they didn't see us", I explained.
At this time David jumped to his feet and started to dance excitedly.

I wondered why he was so upset that Janna and David did not stop. He then augmented his dance moves by slapping his thighs and swinging his arms. I thought he was practising the famous Bavarian Slap Dance, but his strange behaviour was due to his discovery of some brightly coloured spiky caterpillar, slowly crawling up his ankle. He only settled down when the tiny, harmless creature was rendered inert. Old people are sometimes like that.

After a lengthy break it was time to get back on the bikes again and make our way to the hotel. We knew that, by this time, the first riders would have already checked in, had their showers and read a novel or two. Fortunately the going was pretty easy, the profile was flat and the surface was smooth. The only obstacle was a gentle head wind that served to ensure that we would have to work for every kilometre.

At around 2.10 pm we rolled into Donauworth and rode up the Main St to our hotel. I was quite surprised to see the riders from Group 1 actually riding in the opposite direction, apparently they had been wandering around in the wilderness, looking for the hotel. This surprising turn of events actually meant that the tortoises arrived at the hotel before the hares.Miracles really do still happen after all.Read more