Fiction becomes reality
N 47°32'195'' E 009°43'858''
Day: 1
Germany
Sunrise:
05:48 a.m.
Sunset:
9:06 pm
As the crow flies:
23 km
Kilometers per day:
35 km
Total kilometers:
55 Km
Ground conditions:
Asphalt
Temperature – Day (maximum):
28 °C
Temperature – day (minimum):
25 °C
Temperature – night:
18 °C
Latitude:
47°32’195”
Longitude:
009°43’858”
Maximum altitude:
420 m above sea level
Departure time:
13.00
Arrival time:
6.30 pm
Average speed:
11.20 Km/h
My God, the water is flowing under our inner tent!” I shout in horror and point the beam of my head torch at the water pouring in. “Oh look, the tent seams aren’t sealed either. You should have sealed them last week,” Tanja remarks. A deep rumble shakes the dark sky. Fragments of light shatter the blackness of the night and illuminate the inside of the tent for a fraction of a second. A summer thunderstorm, not unknown for Lake Constance, breaks over us with all its might. Strong gusts of wind tear at the outer skin of our new shelter. Wuuuummmm! It thunders at ever shorter intervals. “There’s no way we’re going to drown on the first night!” I shout and grab the tube of seam sealer. Due to the stress of preparing for our Trans-East expedition, sealing the tent seams was the last thing on my mind. Fighting against the penetrating moisture, I smear the sealant onto the seams and hope that it will bond with the canvas despite the damp.
Exhausted from the first 35 kilometers of cycling and the efforts of the last few days, I lie down next to Tanja on the insulation mat and watch the glaring flashes of lightning. The acrid light penetrates the tent fabric like a shadow. The warm, humid air wafts over our bodies like a dense mass. My gaze circles over the few items of equipment that have found shelter from the storm in our inner tent. So now a new phase of life begins again, I think to myself, and I don’t know if I really like this state of affairs. The day before yesterday we were at the outdoor trade fair in Friedrichshafen and spoke about our Trans-East expedition at various press conferences and a show. Until then, everything was just in our heads, a fiction, a fantasy of wanting to be on another stage of the great journey. We spent months working on our idea to turn the illusion into reality and then, in one fell swoop, time has passed. As if we had only dreamed our stay in Germany, the picture has changed and we are no longer lying at home in our cozy waterbed but are exposed to the elements of nature on the very first night. Although we are not really threatened here on a campsite near Lindau, so we can seek shelter from the rising floods at any time, the reality of living in a tent again is not exactly pleasant at first.
We wanted to set off the day after the trade fair. However, due to the persistent rainfall, we stayed a day longer with our hosts, the lovely Bodenmüller family. But even on Monday, the day we set off, it soon rained incessantly. “You are welcome to stay one more night in our vacation apartment,” suggested Ingrid Bodenmüller. Soon we would have accepted their well-intentioned invitation, the thought of having a nice chat over a tasty snack and a few beers was too tempting. Tanja and I looked at each other and basically agreed. If we let the rain stop us from cycling now, how are we going to survive a winter in Siberia? Even if it will be a year before then, we have to overcome the comforts and conveniences of civilization, no matter how difficult it is at first, and begin the adventure of a long journey. Ingrid’s husband Alfred accompanied us here on his bike. If the storm hasn’t flushed him off his bike, he should be back home by now, I think to myself, listening to the raindrops drumming on the canvas.
