Pallien

One of the lessons I have learnt from all the previous rides I have done is to beware of the so called "short days", as often these can throw up the most unexpected challenges. Today's ride was originally supposed to be only 28 km - an absolute doddle in anyone's language. It did not turn out that way.

The captain explained that there had been a problem with our intended mooring point in Trier. Apparently, this choice location had now been snaffled by one of the larger cruise ships (probably a Viking), and that we had now been relegated to a rather second (actually fourth) rate mooring about 8 km out of the town. To make matters even worse, the mooring was right in the middle of an ugly industrial estate, surrounded by stinking metal recycling plants and toxic waste dumps.

The change of mooring point also had a further negative impact on our day's ride. The city of Trier is the oldest city in Germany and is famous for its impressive Roman ruins. It was certainly a place we wanted to explore, but, just like the old Roman buildings, our plans were also in ruins.

Since the new mooring point was about 8 km before Trier, we would have to ride ahead to the city, and then ride the same path again to get back to the boat. If that was not bad enough, the following morning we would have to ride it a third time as we resume our ride along the Moselle. It was not the way it was meant to be.

We started the ride at about 9 am and made good progress till we stopped at a substantial coffee shop for morning tea. Just as we were sitting in the sunshine, enjoying our drinks, a rather terrifying event took place. Every mobile phone (and I mean EVERY MOBILE PHONE) started pinging with an emergency alert message. Since the message was in German we had no idea what it was telling us.

All around the coffee shop people were looking at their phones in horror. Surely Putin had not done the unthinkable, and pressed the red button? I looked up at the sky, expecting to see the vapour trails from incoming missiles. Fortunately the only trails I could see were from the normal air traffic.

After several minutes of communal confusion, the waitress gradually assured everyone that it was just the government testing their alert system. Apparently it is something that is done once a year. For us, it was a rather unsettling experience, and certainly increased our anxiety levels off the scale.

We continued on for a short distance, trying to regain our composure, when we struck the second major challenge of the day. The trail was completely closed for some sort of reconstruction. For a time, we did not know whether to just ignore the sign and try to go around it. Finally we decided to try to navigate our way instead.

The fact that there were no detour signs made the navigation that much harder. We didn't really know where we were going, but just rode around a complex series of local roads, until we finally worked our way around the blockage. It added significantly to the distance we had to ride that day.

After narrowly averting nuclear disaster, and negotiating a meandering detour, we finally reached Trier about 2 pm. By that time it was very hot, and the sight of a huge throng of tourists was not a welcome one. We went in search of somewhere quieter to rest for a while.

Most of us had elected to participate in a "guided tour" of the city. I normally avoid these unpleasant experiences, but somehow decided to throw common sense aside and pay the 20 Euro fee for the unpleasant experience.

The tour started at 3 pm. It was the hottest time of the day, so we all hoped it would be short. It wasn't. It went on and on, with lots of dates and other details that were immediately forgotten. We staggered around the city, just wanting the thing to end.

When the tour finally finished at around 5 pm, we still had to get back to the boat. This is where the real circus began. There were about 50 of us in total, who all required guiding out of the city and back to the Olympia. Our cycling guide on the boat was a confident blonde German called Julia. Since she was going to lead us back to the boat, we thought it would be simple and straightforward. It wasn't.

Julia did not seem to know where we were. The huge conga line of riders followed her as she twisted and turned through the narrow streets. I soon started to doubt her navigation, as we were heading in the opposite direction to where we should be going. I have never ridden in such a huge peloton, riding along busy roads in a major city. It was not only funny, it was potentially very dangerous.

Julia eventually realised that she was going the wrong way, and the giant peloton found itself right back in the centre of the city - exactly where we had started about 20 minutes earlier. This really was developing into a very long day.

After some more confusion, the correct path was finally located, and we started back toward the Olympia. By that time riders were stretched out over a huge distance, and several became disconnected from the group. It really was a perfect example of how NOT to lead a group of riders.

It was after 6 pm by the time that we reached the familiar safety of the boat. It was almost dinner time. What a day.Read more