Paradise shores
N 47°44'839'' E 009°08'824''
Day: 6
Sunrise:
05:56 h
Sunset:
9:03 pm
As the crow flies:
10,90 Km
Daily kilometers:
32.87 Km
Total kilometers:
240.65 Km
Soil condition:
Asphalt, gravel
Temperature – Day (maximum):
25 °C
Temperature – day (minimum):
20 °C
Temperature – Night:
16 °C
Latitude:
47°44’839”
Longitude:
009°08’824”
Maximum height:
450 m above sea level
Time of departure:
10.27 a.m.
Arrival time:
3.00 p.m.
Average speed:
13.85 Km/h
All of a sudden, the summer has gone again. Dark clouds and a light wind are the perfect cycling weather. The sweating of the last two days has come to an end. We make good progress and find a pub in the early afternoon. Although eating out here on Lake Constance is sinfully expensive, we want to afford it at least once a day. “We’re on vacation,” I say with a laugh and take a big sip of my shandy. “Good idea,” Tanja agrees and says, “I just hope our travel budget holds out.” “A week, then we’ll have bread and water,” I reply jokingly. “How many kilometers did we do today?” “Twenty-five. If we keep up the pace, we won’t reach Burma for another ten years,” I say with a grin. “The main thing is that we get there safely.”
We reach the fully booked Klausenhorn campsite near Dingelsdorf at 3 pm. “We still have two pitches left. If you want to stay, you’ll have to decide quickly,” says the friendly woman at reception. “How much does the pitch cost?” “Two adults 10.40 euros plus a normal tent pitch 7.40 euros. Showers are extra. Three minutes 50 cents.” “My God, you guys have really steep prices. You’ll soon be able to take a room,” I remark in horror. “I’m sorry. I don’t do the prices.” Tanja and I look at each other and decide whether we should continue. According to my map, the next campsite is only 12 kilometers away and from what we’ve been told, the highest range of hills on the Lake Constance cycle path is directly in front of us. I look up at the sky scrutinizingly. “It’s going to rain again soon,” I realize. “And who knows if the next campsite isn’t fully booked or has similar prices.” “Hm, that’s right. So we’ll stay,” I decide.
We are lucky again. As soon as we set up our tent, the gates of heaven open. “It’s a good thing we didn’t drive on,” says Tanja.
It clears up again in the early evening. We make the most of the time and stroll along the campsite promenade. The warm light of the setting sun shimmers on the damp bark of a worthy avenue of trees. Lime green moss, dark knotholes and the light brown bark of the trees combine to create a wonderful symbiosis of colors. The silhouette of a late angler leaves the lake, cooled by the fresh rain. Children play happily on the shore and load their little ladder wagons with their small shovels. A playful young dog jumps for stones thrown at him by a group of vacationers. A rowing boat shimmering in the last light lies on the beach. The Zeppelin hovers over the town of Überlingen on the other bank, reminiscent of long-forgotten times. As we stroll along next to the last golden yellow ray of light reflected by the smooth lake water, we realize what we would have missed. Good that we stayed.
