Imagine a golden egg!

Thick wafts of mist envelop the Danube valley in their damp cloak. The persistent rain also contributed to the unpleasant character of this night. As soon as we get up, we descend to the Danube. In fact, it was worth erecting the scaffolding. Some of the houses can only be reached via the scaffolding walkway. The fate of the residents here will now depend on the sensible regulation of the barrages.

Tanja and I decide to set off today. There is always a reason to stay. If we don’t move, it won’t be the tide that holds us back, but the snow.

We follow the country road for the first few kilometers. Then the path leads us back to the banks of the river. “You can only drive here as far as Poikam. Then you have to go to Bad Abbach and follow the main road to Regensburg. Most of the cycle paths are flooded,” a passer-by warns us. Suddenly the path is closed. We drive on anyway. Police, firefighters and other specialists are standing on the shore. A large barge is lying across the railroad bridge. It looks like it is not only in danger of capsizing but also endangers the bridge. A train roars thunderously over the gurgling stream, underlining the seriousness of the situation. “What has he loaded?” I want to know. “Wheat.” “And what happened?” I ask one of the emergency services. “It happened yesterday evening. The tug wanted to leave the lock channel, took the wrong angle to the current and was pushed against the bridge piers by the force of the river.” “Looks like the force of the water will soon break it apart,” I say. “If the water level continues to rise as announced, definitely. But we hope to have freed him from his predicament before then,” he replies. “How are they going to do that?” “We’ll haul it away with winches,” I hear. We would like to witness the spectacle, but the emergency services ask everyone present to leave the scene.

After Bad Abbach we have to follow the busy main road. Trucks roar past us so close that we get scared and bang. Nothing has been dangerous on this trip so far, but driving on a busy main road is bordering on a nightmare. Every time a big truck whizzes past us, I think I’m going to lose control of my little Roadtrain and hope I don’t sway back and forth too much. . The wind suction of a large truck is so great that we start to stagger on our aluminum trestles. “You have to imagine a golden egg!” “What?!” “A golden egg! Imagine a golden egg around you!!! You’ll feel safer!” shouts Tanja, who is in my slipstream with her companion. As I can’t think of anything better at the moment, I cycle along in my golden egg and am glad that after a short time we come to a side road to continue our journey to Regensburg. In the city, we buy protective covers for our shoes in a large bike store to keep them dry in the constant wet. Then we go to the campsite. Apart from two other dripping wet cyclists, we are the only cyclists here. “It’s no wonder with the prices you can really consider checking into a guesthouse,” I say, because at €18.20, it’s the most expensive campsite on our trip so far. Due to the flooding, we are accommodated on the higher emergency meadow. Unfortunately, it is located next to the garbage cans and piles of garbage. As soon as our ever-wet dwelling is erected, the gates of heaven open. We quickly crawl inside and crouch down to eat a few sandwiches with a spread. Due to my back and knee pain, I don’t know how to sit down. “I hope it doesn’t get any worse,” I moan quietly. Tanja looks at me worriedly. “You should enjoy a hot shower. After all, we pay a lot of money here and the man at reception justified the high price with the well-kept sanitary facilities. Just let the hot water splash on your back. I’m sure it’ll do you good,” she suggests.

Unsatisfactory shower experience

After eating, writing my short notes, transferring and labeling the pictures, I crawl out of our tunnel tent at 9:30 at night. I am immediately surrounded by a thick cloud of rain that must have been mistaken in its altitude. The beam of my headlamp can barely penetrate the misty creature. Shivering from the cold, I walk to the shower room dressed only in my undershirt and trousers. Thank goodness it’s not closed at this late hour. I go into the first cubicle, take off the rest of my clothes, hang them on the hook and press the button. Cold water splashes onto the floor, splashes upwards and wets my legs. A shiver runs down my body and I want to scream out with a curse. No sooner has the jet of water hit the ground to delight everything with its coldness than it disappears back into its pipe. I press the button again and the game repeats itself. It takes a while before hot water finally arrives. By now I’m totally frozen out. The obvious thriftiness of the campsite operators makes my shower experience an unpleasant one. As soon as the warm water splashes on my head, it withdraws back into its pipe. I drum furiously on the push button, but after five or six seconds at the latest, the brief pleasure is over every time. To get the water jet, I press the button with my left hand while I try to soap myself with my right. Then the soap slips out of my hand and slides away across the wet floor. As I try to shower again, I lean back against the push button. Satisfied with my idea, I start to wash my hair again but I can’t hold the button down with my back. “Don’t let the hot water splash on your back. This shower should be banned. It’s a pure disaster. It doesn’t do you any good,” I curse under my breath and put an end to the supposed fun. Before I leave the shower room, I look into another shower cubicle out of sheer curiosity. To my horror, I discover a normal water regulator that you don’t have to press. All other shower cubicles are also equipped with normal regulators.

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