On the Danube
N 48°20'331'' E 009°56'723''
Day: 18
Sunrise:
06:06 h
Sunset:
8:44 pm
As the crow flies:
37.12 Km
Daily kilometers:
52.12 Km
Total kilometers:
481.18 Km
Soil condition:
Asphalt
Temperature – Day (maximum):
27 °C
Temperature – day (minimum):
23 °C
Temperature – Night:
14 °C
Latitude:
48°20’331”
Longitude:
009°56’723”
Maximum height:
500 m above sea level
Time of departure:
10:22 a.m.
Arrival time:
5:15 pm
Average speed:
14 Km/h
The drumming of hooves pulls me out of a terrible dream. It takes some time before I recognize the familiar tent interior. Thank God the friendly rays of sunshine dispel the last memories of my nightmare. I open the zipper of our fabric shelter and watch the horses being let out to pasture. Foals trot down the fence not far from us and don’t know what to do with their exuberance and strength. The occasional mooing comes from the stables and a cock cries his cock-a-doodle-doo into the cool morning. “You’re welcome to get fresh milk from us. We have plenty of it,” offers farmer Schmidt. The idyllic setting on the farm is perfect and we wonder why we didn’t come up with the idea of spending a cycling vacation in Germany earlier.
Today we no longer have to fear the mountain ranges of the Swabian Alb. The route continues steadily downhill to the Danube. We reach the river in the late afternoon. As we cross it on a bridge, the young Danube does not give the impression of being the largest waterway in Europe next to the Volga. We gaze spellbound into the lazily flowing water. Anglers have cast their lines and are waiting for one of the many fish that make their home here to bite. “When you consider that this vein of water is a thousand kilometers longer than the Rhine and flows through eight states,” I say thoughtfully.
Perhaps it’s not a bad idea to explore the mighty 2850-kilometer-long water artery, which for centuries was the most important route between southern Russia, Central Asia and Central Europe. Slowly, the idea of changing our route and following the Danube to Budapest becomes more and more appealing to me.
As the next campsite is in Günzburg, we urgently need a place to spend the night. Rooms and guesthouses are offered everywhere. No matter how tempting the offer is to spend another night in a bed, we must not allow ourselves to be tempted. Over a period of several years, overnight accommodation is so expensive that our idea of a trans-East expedition would fail long before it reached its destination for financial reasons. Even so, after Tanja and I have carried another 200 kilograms of weight over 50 kilometers under our own steam, our thighs feel like they are about to tear apart. The muscle pain is so severe that we weaken and ask for an overnight stay in a restaurant near Gögglingen. “The double room costs 54 euros,” says the friendly landlady. Dejected, we mount our saddles and pedal our vehicle inland, away from the Danube. We decided to ask a farmer if he would let us have a piece of meadow for the night. “I’m afraid I don’t have a seat,” says a friendly old man. “But you can certainly pitch your tent in the children’s playground. It belongs to the municipality.” “I don’t know if the council will like that. They’ll end up thinking we’re vagrants,” I reply. “Oh, I don’t think so, but maybe you’d better ask farmer Schmidt. I’m sure he’ll let you sleep behind the barn,” he suggests. “Tanja whispers quietly to me: “I guess they’re all called Schmidt here?” “I don’t know, but at least the name has brought us luck so far,” I reply with a grin. With renewed hope and burning muscles, we pedal our road trains to the farm in question. We catch farmer Schmidt just as he is about to drive off in his car. “I’m on my way to Burma with my wife and need a piece of meadow for our tent”. “Where to?” “To Burma, behind China.” “And where are you getting on the plane?” “We’re going by bike,” I say, whereupon we see the familiar surprised look on our faces. After more conversation and answering lots of questions, we are actually allowed to spend the night behind the barn. “But leave that wood alone. It doesn’t belong to me.” “Don’t worry. What should we do with the wood?” “You never know. Anything can happen today. I’m just saying. The things you read and hear,” replies the nice man, who has lots of questions as he sets up the tent. “Well, I’ve never met people like you before. I mean in real life. I hardly ever watch TV, but when I do, I only know people like you from TV. I didn’t even know there was such a thing in reality. Where do you spend the winter? What do you eat? How do you do it when you have to go to the toilet? What do you do when it rains? Is your tent really waterproof? But it’s uncomfortable in there. It would be nothing for me. I wouldn’t want to live like that for anything in the world,” he asks and tells us.
