Strange visit

The bright light of the sun’s rays floods our tent. “Huuaahh!” I shout contentedly and stretch my arms into the glorious and rare morning when we wake up without rain. Our journey today takes us through light forests to the Grünau hunting lodge, which Count Palatine Heinrich had built for his wife. “I’d love to be a princess too!” Tanja exclaims with a laugh. We reach Ingolstadt in a good mood. Although this beautiful city is over a thousand years old and we have a lot to see, we only visit an ice cream parlor and enjoy our ice cream. We are enjoying the sun and the flair of summer more than ever. Despite our muscle cadre, we cycle on full of energy. On the Danube embankment, we can see the tower of Vohburg Castle from afar and look forward to an early camp. “Looks like a public campground,” I say as we let our road trains roll off the bridge onto a meadow. “Will there be other campers?” asks Tanja, a little unsettled by the emptiness of the place. “I don’t know, but the sign here says we can pitch our tent.

While Tanja buys something for our evening meal in the village and fetches water, I once again check the bolts on the bikes and give our reliable vehicles a thorough inspection. “Seits mit die Räder unterwegs,” a man speaks to me in Bavarian dialect. “Uh, yeah.” “Got a load of stuff with you,” he says, taking a big swig from a bottle of beer and obviously trying to start a conversation. “Yes, we’re on our way to Burma. You need a lot of things,” I reply politely and continue my inspection. “Do your bikes cost a lot of money?” “Yes,” I reply and start to feel a little uncomfortable. Suddenly my visitor disappears. I breathe a sigh of relief, because there was something about the man I didn’t like. “Look here. I’ve got a nice bike too,” his voice startles me a few minutes later. He parks his dirty bike in the middle of our camp, places a plastic bag full of beer bottles banging against each other right next to my trailer and seems to want to make himself at home with us. As I continue to work on the bikes, I notice his eyes watching me from under his wide-brimmed hat. Every movement of my hand is observed. Then he sits down right next to me and opens another bottle of beer.

“Don’t you want to swap your bike for mine? Ha, ha, ha. It’s just a joke,” he says incoherently and takes a big swig from the bottle. “What do you actually do for a living?” “I’m an adventurer,” I reply curtly. “What? I’ve never heard anything like that.” “It doesn’t happen that often,” I reply, just to say something and stop the conversation. “Where are the others? Are they still sleeping in the tent?” “My wife will be back in a minute,” I say, not wanting to answer his question exactly. “How old are you? How old are you? Forty-five? How old do you think I am?” “That old too,” I mumble. “I’m fifty. You wouldn’t have thought it! Liquor, beer and women have kept me young. I used to race motorcycles. I don’t like it anymore. Two friends of mine were killed. I thought the next one would be you. Well, well, you’d better drink my beer. I don’t like it anymore.”

Tanja finally comes back. “Is that your wife? Don’t I have any more chances? Ha, ha, ha.” The stranger gets up to knock one of his beers into the nearby bushes. Tanja and I look at each other. She knows immediately what’s going on. During our travels, we kept meeting strange characters. When there was trouble, alcohol was usually involved. In Mongolia, we were once attacked by drunken Mongolians. There was a bad fight. Back then we had a rifle with us but no ammunition. Nevertheless, I threatened with the gun. It was one of those bad situations that we can never forget. Even though the incident happened a long time ago, memories come flooding back when we are visited by strange, drunk and shady people in the camp.

Tanja and I use the time of his absence to roll the bike out of our camp, add his plastic bag with the beer bottles and place our bikes in front of our tent like a wagon fort. We immediately sit down in our seats behind it and start chatting animatedly. So we pull out all the stops of psychology to get rid of the stranger in a tactical way. Now that his bike is no longer in our direct camp area, he has no reason to sit next to us. Especially when his beer supply is also banned from our immediate living area. Our bikes form another emotional barrier and because we are talking animatedly, he can no longer grab one of us to tell any stories. When the man under the wide-brimmed hat comes back, we both watch him with suspicious eyes, so that he doesn’t notice, of course. Like a wolf circling its prey, it runs in a wide arc around our camp. He stops, takes a long pull from the bottle and seems to be thinking. Then he comes to a conclusion. As if he had never been interested in us, he strolls to his bike, picks up the beer bag and swings himself onto the saddle. “Servus!” he says goodbye in a friendly manner. “Servus!” we reply just as friendly and are happy to be alone again.

Again and again we see cyclists standing on the bridge looking down at us. None of them want to stay on the free camp site. I study the map again. “I can’t believe it. There’s another campsite. Only about two kilometers from here. It must be managed. Probably all the cyclists go there,” I realize. “Do you think we’re safe here?” asks Tanja. “Believe it already. What could possibly happen. Have faith in Mother Earth. I can’t imagine that we are at risk here in the middle of Germany at a village campsite. I rather believe that the fear stems from memories. If a motorcycle gang comes and gets really drunk at night, we’ll just take down our tent,” I reassure her. “All right, if you think we’re safe here, I’m relaxed too.”

Severe itching reminds me again of the supposed tick bite. Tanja examines the area and removes the black dot from the skin. “It really does look like a tick,” she says. On closer inspection of my body, we find another of the dangerous bloodsuckers. The bite marks itch terribly. “Do you mean they transmit Lyme disease?” I ask a little anxiously. “I don’t think so. We’ll have to keep an eye on the spots over the next few days. As long as no red halo forms around them, you’re definitely not at risk,” she reassures me.

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