Respect the Mountains

July 26, 2018

Day 5: Oberried - Schiltach. Rivers followed: Breg, Schiltach

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One thing that was now very, very clear to me was that I needed to respect the mountains, and pick my route with care if I didn't want more days with 23km category 1 climbs. In retrospect, my route was mad: I hadn't got very far East into the Black Forest - indeed, the only way to progress now was downhill and to the North, which would get me to the valley directly leading out of Freiburg. But while I undoubtedly would have had an easier (and duller) time going through the town, the previous day had been a valuable (and thrilling) lesson: this was not the rolling countryside I am used to.

I had spent a lot of the previous evening poring over the map to try to find a more viable route to the East and North. The big scale, and lack of contours, meant my task wasn't entirely straightforward: but I knew to take the gradient chevrons seriously now. My planning for how to cross the Black Forest was a bit sketchy: I figured I had 3 days, plenty of time as the distance wasn't great and I would wing it.

I now saw that I had to be much more strategic. I lost my fear of following major roads: virtually every one had a completely separate and safe cycleway alongside it - this simplified things. Following rivers was ideal: even uphill, the gradients wouldn't be too punishing. I ruled out one inital idea, which was to cross to the East as quickly as possible, as it now became clear that this would put me in the Donau basin (the source of the Danube is East of Titisee), cut off from the North by 1000m+ high mountains. Heading towards Rottweil was out. However, if I could get North, and reach the Neckar via the Glatt, I could follow their valleys all the way to Tübingen without any real climbs. Freudenstadt was near the head of the Glatt, significantly to the North. The Kinzig flowed South from Freudenstadt to Schiltach, which was bang in the middle of the highlands, and - in a surprisingly sparse area - had a campsite symbol on my map.

Schiltach then seemed like a reasonable target for the day. It was probably only 80km away or so - all I needed to do way to find a plausible route. First I had to continue North into the Rotbach valley that heads out of Freiburg. From here, a high ridge cuts off the North - but one route follows a river up to St Märgen, and only had a single chevron on it. A climb to 932m it would be, but apparently gently. From there, I could read the next valley and Furtwangen by cutting past Hexenlock. There would be some climbing: two double chevrons - but I thought I could stomach that. Amazingly, once I was in Furtwangen, and half way, it looked like I could complete the rest of the route without any ascending chevrons, by cutting up the Breg and Brigach valley to St Georgen, and then making a long descent on the main road to Schramburg. The final 10km to Shiltach were only possible by the main 462 road - but it was a descent, and if I got tired there was a train station indicated. Shiltach itself had a curious double tunnel where the main road went under the town, but I was confident I could negotiate this. The route almost seemed to good to be true.

It was another beautiful, clear day, and despite a very deep sleep I got going and after a breakfast of French croissant and coffee hit the road around 8.30am. The first 5km were straightforward descent down along a dedicated cycleway into the valley coming out of Freiburg, so this was a nice and gentle warm up. I soon peeled off into the village of Kirchzarten, where I proceeded to get immediately lost. After striking out in the wrong direction a couple of times, I finally consulted my compass and found my way towards Höfen, which was the right direction for Buchenback and the start of the climb up to St Märgen.

After crossing highway 31, and passing through non-descript Buchenbach, I embarked upon the first climb of the day. My legs were surprisingly limber and not too stiff, and the gradient was as promised far from the horrors I'd experienced yesterday: well below 5%. I took things easy, knowing I had plenty of time to complete the distance, and happy to be doing the climb in the relative cool of the morning.

Climbing out of Buchenbach the road was surprisingly busy, but a dedicated cycleway was made the going easy. The way followed a clear valley followed by the small river (the Wagensteigbach). I passed a huge sawmill which was pleasingly open to view: I could see saws and cutting wheels robotically processing endless lumber.

I pulled easily up through the villages of Falkenhof and Wagensteig. The cycleway joined the road, but it remained quiet and easy going. Above Wagensteig the gradient became steeper, and as promised by the map approached 10% as the road began to switchback and pulled above the treeline. Taking things very slowly, I was still comfortable as the double towers of the St Märgen church swung into view. There was a very steep "shortcut" that led over the grass to the church - I eschewed this, thinking it was a little rich, and went round the long way. One last set of very steep switchbacks and I pulled up past the church and joined the main road, which formed St Märgen's high street.

The church at the top of the climb - approaching St Märgen. It's a terrible photo, sadly the only one I have

"Fair milk" - apparently this is a common icon

The climb had been 470m over 20km, and had taken less than a couple of hours. It was about half the height of the monster climb yesterday, but with an average grade of 2.3% was just not comparable in terms of how much it took it out of me. If I could stick to grades like this, I'd do alright.

In St Märgen I found a bakery on the main drag, and as they always seem to be in Germany, it was really excellent. I picked up a sandwich and some really great confections, including a sugary pancake thing which I ate sitting outside the bakery. It was still mid-morning, and I felt good to continue.

It was meant to be 4 or 5km out of St Märgen on the relatively flat main road before I could turn North and descend down to Hexenloch - but it seemed to come up really quickly. I was actually surprised, and had to brake rather suddenly upon seeing the turn signed for Furtwangen - only 15km. I think my map was a little inaccurate here, I was only 3km from St Märgen.

The turn off the main road to descend to Hexenloch, amid lovely alpine scenery. I have no idea where Titisee-Neustadt is: Titisee is morelike 20km away from here!

The descent down to Hexenloch passed through the tiny villages of Altglashütte and Dreisteigen, and featured a steep downhill of up to 10% as indicated by a double chevron on the map. I would lose 250m of my altitude which I'd need to regain by a potentially tough climb out the other side; but for now I was happy to cruise downhill, keeping my speed well under control on the very bendy roads.

I passed through the charming villages, highly reminiscent of the alps, in the beautiful sunshine. Soon I was at the bottom, and cruised towards Hexenloch, which as the name suggests is a water mill, and something of a tourist attraction.

After I'd had a quick look, I braced myself for what, according to the map, would be the hardest climb of the day. It was double-chevroned, so I knew the gradient would be above 9%, and would continue for 5km up to the village of Neukirch, where I could break into the Breg valley containing Furtwangen.

Helpful cycle route signs are everywhere. This indicates the descent I came down was 7%. But they aren't perfect: there is no way that Titisee is closer than St Märgen from here!

The Hexenloch water mill itself. There was actually a tour bus parked up near here: I considered stopping for some lunch, but was well stocked so voted to continue

Perhaps because I was well prepared, in practice the climb didn't seem too bad at all. I knew I only had to regain the 250m I'd just descended, and compared to yesterday even 10% - which is what the elevation chart shows the grade to be - was perfectly manageable. I took it slow, and in less than an hour had hauled my way up to the other side of the valley.

I emerged in the village of Neukirch and after a little negotiation, found the main 500 road to Furtwangen. There actually was no separate cycleway here, but it was all direct and a pure descent, so I hammered it down the main road. There was some epic roadworks and diversions going on in Furtwangen, which truned out to be surprisingly industrial and sprawling. I followed the fast main road East for a while, then spotted a likely looking side-road that led, by coincidence to a cycleway heading East. As I left Furtwangen it was clear I was following the valley of the Breg: from here I could pick up the Rohrbach which would take me North to St. Georgen.

The cycleway was relatively flat, and passed through pleasant woods on the other bank of the Breg from the main road. When I spotted a likely treestump, it seemed the ideal place to have lunch. I greatly enjoyed my bakery sandwich, and several cyclists - and one segway! - passed me as I ate.

A couple of kilometres on, and there was a clear bridge over the Breg, that would allow me to take the road North towards Rohrbach and St Georgen. This was a more minor road, but there was no separate cycleway and significant traffic. There were no grades marked on the map, but in fact it was a steady climb, all the way to the head of the Rohrbach and the source of the Brigach, which flowed down to St Georgen. Indeed, the gradient was not over 5%, but I needed to climb to over 1000m to break between the two valleys.

Some little tanks (?) outside Furtwangen

The climb was steady, and the traffic courteous, though the day was now rather hot, and there was a significant headwind. I climbed up to the village of Rohrbach - though it was less of a climb, the very open road and long visibility made it feel like I was hardly moving. I demolished quite a lot of my water coming up here.

Beyond Rohrbach the gradient showed some serious steepness: I can now see parts of it was 10%, but my map wasn't too helpful on this point. Near the top was a very elaborate junction, and it seemed to take me ages to pass through a huge overpass. Just breaching the top, several streams of traffic joined and I was suddenly on a busy road.

We had to slow down as there was traffic-controlled roadworks and one lane coned off. When the light went green, I shot off down the slope, and pulled into the lane that had been coned off, but was apparently clear, to let the traffic past. Nearing 50kph, I suddenly saw that a patch of road had had its surface removed, and hadn't been patched up yet: there was a good 3 inch drop in the lane I was speeding towards. I crammed on the brakes, and even fishtailed a bit, but got my speed down to 30kph before I hit it - it was a bit of a bump, but fortunately nothing went wrong. Cursing my stupidity, I rejoined the proper carriageway along with the obviously concerned drivers, and took it easy during the smooth rest of the descent to St. Georgen.

St. Georgen is built up along a very steep hillside. I followed the main road and railway to the East side, and then turned into the town, pulling up a very steep hill. I'm embarrassed to say this is one place I actually got off and pushed: the main street was thronged with traffic, and my speed was just too slow.

I was very hot and parched now. I spent some time wondering around St Georgen - which is actually a pretty grey and concrete place, for such a beautiful location - looking for somewhere to get some water. The public toilets were shut, and the fountain in the shape of a public pump was clearly kein trinkwasser, so in the end I wondered into an ice-cream bar, and by some gesticulation of my water bottle got them to fill it up. I then bought a coke from a kebab window, and had some confusion as to which of the 5 recycling bins I should put the can in when I was done, much to the amusement of the proprietor. Finally I found a larger fountain in the main square, which while formally kein trinkwasser looked wholesome enough, so I filled up there.

Entering St. Georgen, after almost having a spill on some roadworks

Cool bear fountain, which I'm not ashamed to say I drank from

From St. Georgen, if my map was correct - and I had some serious doubts over its optimism - it would be all downhill for the entire 25km to Schiltach. The first stretch would take me on a B road to Schramberg via Tennenbronn, which I soon picked up a sign for. At first I was on the road again, and I wasn't looking forward to doing the whole 15km like that, but soon I saw a familiar cycle route sign and peeled off onto the parallel cycleway.

There was, in fact, a little climbing to get out of St Georgen - but to my amazement, the map was correct. It depicted five reverse chevrons, indicating a constant descent of 5% or so, and so it proved to be. I covered the 10km to Tennenbronn, and further 6km to Schramberg, in about half an hour, just cruising downhill all the way. The rate at which I moved across the map now astonished me! I didn't know how I had finagled such a good route - it was more luck than judgement, I think. In fact, the elevation plot shows me there were some serious patches of descent, 12% or more. After my near spill I kept my speed down and just cruised, the brakes being totally reliable.

The descent effectively continued through Schramburg, which is quite a substantial and, in contrast to St. Georgen, very well-appointed place. Despite the cruise down, I was reaching exhaustion point, and considering as I did that I had performed extremely well, I would jump on a train to avoid the last 10km of main road cycling down to Schiltach. My map showed that there was an odd little branch line running from Schiltach to Schramburg, and I even had a special train ticket I could use for one journey which rather oddly had been given to me for free for staying in the campsite the previous night.

Coming into Schramburg, which is quite a handsome place

Unfortunately, there were no signs for a bahnhof evident, and the Germans are usually pretty reliable with these. As I realised I was leaving Schramburg South via the main road, I crossed to a city map by a retail park. It was clear from this that there was no station: my map had misled me, and I would need to cycle the last leg. Ah, at least it was all downhill and I could say I hadn't "cheated", even if I wasn't particularly looking forward to the main road.

On the question of the grade, my map did in fact prove reliable: there were two reverse chevrons, and it was indeed a gentle downhill sweep. The road was pretty hairy though, and some cars had trouble getting past me. After the first big descent, I spotted that there was in fact a separate cycleway running parallel - I had no idea where it had started. Just at that moment, a car honked me and the driver pointed rather pointedly at the cycleway - whether he was concerned for my safety or just being an ass I don't know, as I couldn't just leap off the road I was travelling 40kph down until there was a safe way to get across. Of course I did this at the first opportunity, and found it much more pleasant going.

About half way to Schiltach - so well in mountains, and nowhere near any major transport routes (or, as I found out, rail lines) I found an odd and quintessentially German site. A large, and obviously high-tech, wheel rim factory, turning out shiny new rims. Why and how to run the factory here - high in the mountains, away from any population centre (Schiltach is no metropolis) and where it was hard to transport raw materials and goods out - really puzzled me. How was it cost effective? Only later my friend Ben postulated that the Germans had never lost the tradition of rural industry in this way; that it was so high-tech and automated it probably didn't need to many workers; and that even in the mountains the transport infrastructure was so efficient that goods could be moved. In common with most of the other German industry I saw, the factory was also spotless - it gleamed in the sun!

The cycleway took me away from the main road, and then over the curious tunnels this takes and into the tiny, and charming town of Schiltach. I was tired but happy to have reached it under my own steam, and I knew I had made serious progress, half-crossing the Black Forest West-to-East, and getting within striking distance of the Glatt and Neckar valleys that could take me to Tübingen.

I was again banking on my map's little blue camping symbol being accurate - lack of a campsite would simply mean I would book into a hotel, as I was too exhausted and the landscape too hilly to find an easy wild camping spot - but it had served me well so far, and so it proved in Schiltach. I was through the town in a jiffy, and followed campingplatz signs down to the old railway, across a rickety old bridge under which I would see people camping. The narrow entrance led to a warren of rooms inside which was the reception. The old guy manning it didn't speak any English, but he happily chatted away to me in German despite my incomprehension, and of course the context was obvious. He gave me some very detailed instructions, and it started to become a bit comical, because I really didn't understand what was going on. After I payed and I wheeled my bike in, I saw the younger girl who I'd also seen speaking English, and asked if there was any restriction on where I should camp I had missed. "Anywhere that's free" she said, so I slumped myself down in a shady riverside spot.

Entering Schiltach - I made it under my own steam!

The little railway station in Schiltach, near the campsite

I "claimed" the spot by laying down the Shift on it, and then sat by the river and ate, and ate. After half an hour I was feeling better, so I put the tent up, and went to have a shower. To my great annoyance, once I'd undressed and gone to turn the water on, I realised that it was controlled using small tokens - this must have been part of the instructions the reception guy had tried to impart to me. I had assumed it just controlled the heat - and it was so hot that I wouldn't have minded a cool shower. I really didn't want to have to get dressed again (or wander about in my towel) and then dice with the language to obtain one, so thought I'd try the other shower. Some kind soul had left some tokens in there! The shower still wasn't hot, but I didn't mind.

The campsite restaurant was full to bursting point, so after this adventure, I wondered into the tiny and very attractive town to find somewhere to eat. The Gasthof Brücke had a lovely terrace out on the river, and was deserted other than one couple. The waiter was just a model of efficiency and speed: I got some kasëknuddel and drank very good local beer. Just as I drained my glass and was considering another, he appeared as if by magic with a friendly "another?". I finished that, and immediately: "another?". "Ein ... kleine..." I said - I didn't want to overdo it!

When I returned to the campsite it was very quiet now - even the large band of unexpected English teenagers were conked out. I collapsed pretty quickly and had another dreamless night.

The excellent Gasthof Brücke. Definitely go here if you're in Schiltach

Some amusingly elaborate rules posted for the campsite. I was a bit worried about the "Tramps are not allowed to enter the campground" clause.

Today's ride: 91 km (57 miles)
Total: 519 km (322 miles)

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