A Mystery is Solved

Saturday September 10th
In Which a Great Mystery is Solved

A few years ago Dan Brown confounded the literary world with his convoluted puzzles in the Da Vinci Code, however since the start of this leg of the ride, I have been battling with an infinitely more baffling enigma. When the guide books and vouchers were distributed on Day One, everyone simply helped themselves to whatever they felt they needed. The only trouble was that the final two riders to arrive found that all the books and vouchers had been taken.

Over the next couple of days I exhorted everyone to recheck their books to make sure that they only had the correct number. The problem was that, no matter how hard I tried, the total still came up two short of the size of our peloton. That gave me no other alternative, other than to issue an ultimatum - "At the start of tomorrow's ride, everyone present their books for inspection".

I would have to peruse everyone's books personally to verify that they had the correct quota. It was not a job I was looking forward to, but I knew it had to be done in order to be fair to those who had missed out.

At the appointed hour all the Ghostriders stood in a line with their books, looking like naughty schoolchildren who were ready to receive the cane. As it turned out, the mystery was solved without having to give everyone the third degree. The missing book was discovered (along with another map book), I was able to retrospectively present it to Dennis and Lisa and the ride was able to proceed with one less problem for me to worry about.

Up till now the ride had been reasonably flat, but we now started to encounter the first serious "wobbles" in the elevation profile. When the peloton encountered these challenges, some pressed straight ahead, while others had to take their time and work their way up at their own pace. This meant that the original group was quickly split into two sub groups. Soon those two groups split again into further smaller units. Such a phenomenon is known in cycling parlance as "severe pelotonic disintegration".

I found myself at the rear with the final bunch, but since I had no great desire to be the first one to reach the hotel, I was happy to roll along, chat and enjoy the company

Such times are really a lovely chance to really get to know your fellow travellers. In Australia, the pressure of deadlines means that we do not often get such opportunities, but here time is of relatively minor importance.

About halfway through the day's ride we descended around a sweeping bend and found the entire Danube Cycle Path blocked by a massive construction site. There was no obvious way to proceed either through or around the blockage. Sitting on a bench were two young construction workers in hard hats. They observed my confusion, but made no effort to point out the alternative route. I rode back up the hill to the railroad tracks. No way through there either. So back down to the blockage.

By that time more of our small group had arrived on the scene and were bold enough to ask for directions. We were shown to scramble through the long grass (full of poison ivy), squeeze through some tractors, old metal scraps and other assorted construction debris, and then slide down the opposite side. It was hard to believe that the construction company had not been required to post signs and also make a temporary bypass trail for cyclists. This is Germany's most popular cycle path and it is the life blood to hundreds of businesses right through the country.

We were starting to feel hot and hungry by this time and were relieved to finally roll into a likely looking town and look for a cafe for lunch. We reached the beautiful town centre and admired the lovely medieval buildings all around. In the centre of town a wedding was in progress and a large restored Mercedes Benz pulled in to park, ready to collect the wedding party. Just across from the wedding we found a lovely cafe and went inside in search of food.

"Do you sell rolls ?" we asked very slowly
"Yes" was the answer
"Can you make us one ?"
"Yes", was the answer.

Gerry was so excited at this prospect that he held out his hand to shake. By the look of scorn on the owner's face, you could be forgiven for thinking that Gerry had offered him a poisonous viper. The handshake was refused but he did make us lovely rolls and coffee. The situation was all the more mysterious as the guy turned out to be an American who had settled in Germany.

Apparently he had also thoroughly adopted the worst of German hospitality as well.

Later in the afternoon we rolled into the Landgasthof Zur Rose. We had experienced a little difficulty finding the place and ended up doing about 2 km extra. Just as we got within the final 100 metres of the hotel, Gerry decided to emulate his wife by hitting the curb and falling off his bike flat on his face. He wiped the blood off his forehead, swore profusely and then assured us that he was OK. Apparently the Driessens do that on almost every ride.

The hotel was a real treat with lovely large rooms and an enormous dining room which they had prepared just for us. Since we still had a couple of hours before dinner, Douglas decided that he had time for a ride into the nearby town of Ehingen, just to have a good look around. Somewhere along the track he became a little disoriented and asked a local German guy for directions to the town.
Somehow the meaning of his request must have been lost in translation as his new best friend insisted on personally guiding him - all the way back to the hotel ! Oh well, it was the thought that counts.

That evening we all shared a glorious meal and somehow found our singing voices

.What followed was a raucous time of singing and laughing that we all agreed was a sensational end to an eventful day. Somewhere in the middle of the singing, Douglas, who we had all thought to be a quiet and reserved guy, suddenly burst out into a loud solo rendition of a "I am a pheasant plucker". Now where did that come from? Travel is like that sometimes.

Tomorrow we ride on into Ulm, the first pit stop on this leg of the ride.Read more