They are not going to Burma but to a mud bath!

We enjoy breakfast on the table of a club pub that is still closed at this time of day. The sun continues to delight us with its mild rays today. Then we continue on our so far completely unspectacular bike trip. Although we love adventures, we are happy to start our journey here in Germany. Everything is familiar to us. The fields, the countryside, the villages, the friendly people, the green meadows, the apple, pear and plum trees in fruit, the ripe wheat, the churches and old farmhouses. It’s a journey that doesn’t plunge us into extremes, but lets us enjoy life despite the unstable weather. I would never have thought that a bike trip could be so relaxing despite the effort. We don’t have to be afraid of being robbed or assaulted and we move in a culture that is familiar to us from birth.

We huff and puff up a hill that is steep by our standards. “This is the last mountain for the next thousand kilometers,” I shout happily to Tanja, not knowing at this moment how wrong I am. On the long descent, we have the opportunity to watch the landscape rushing past us. A fox makes a wild escape. Crows fly into the sky, cawing. Although the lovely landscape hardly changes, there is always something new to discover.

For a change, we lose the cycle path once again. Despite good signposting, it sometimes happens that one of the signs at a fork in the road is not legible, does not exist at all or is simply overlooked by us. However, we end up in a small village where we ask for the cycle path. “It’s best to turn back. It’s much shorter,” says one of the farmers in Swabian dialect. After a detour of four kilometers, we find ourselves on the busy main road. The cars and trucks roar past us and give us a taste of Russian road conditions. In a village we meet a group of pensioners who whizz past us on their bikes. “Slow down! The cycle path turns left up ahead!” shouts the leader on his sleek racing bike. “They know where the cycle path is! Come after them!” I shout to Tanja and get on my bike. It goes steeply down the mountain through a village. I am amazed at how quickly the elderly take the harassment. “They’re definitely not going to Burma! They’re going to a spa to take a mud bath!” jokes Tanja loudly. Laughing heartily, I dash after the old men. I keep turning around so as not to lose Tanja. We pass a few forks in the road, left, right, a hairpin bend, down a steep slope and suddenly the group of about twenty circles has disappeared from the face of the earth. “This time we’ve not only lost our cycle path, but also an entire group of pensioners!” I shout over my shoulder to Tanja. “I told you right away that they don’t know where Burma is!” she replies, shaking with laughter.

The main road then takes you to Bad Saulgau. We stop off at an ice cream parlor on the historic market square. My hunger and appetite are so great that I immediately order the monster portion with nine scoops and double cream. “We’re traveling by bike. You’re really hungry,” I reassure the young waitress, who looks at me with widened eyes.

In Bad Buchau we learn about a hay hotel. “You can certainly pitch your tent there,” we are told. In the early evening light, we cycle past the Federsee nature reserve and reach Oggelshausen. The Schmidt family runs the aforementioned hotel where you can have the experience of spending the night in a barn. Because of Tanja’s hay fever, we prefer our tent.

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