Thirty-nine degrees and parched

July 30, 2018

Day 9: Pforzheim - Speyer. Rivers followed: Rhine (sort of)

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The light started to come up around 5.30am - I had slept remarkably peacefully and undisturbed despite my far from concealed location, and I found I awakened naturally before it got too light. I got out the tent and took it down without delay - though the cycleway metres above my head was still deserted, I suspected that Monday morning would bring early commuters, dog walkers and fitness buffs out ungodly early - and reckoned that sitting by a still-erected tent would look a bit suspicious. Tent down, I drew more water from the river and boiled it up for coffee: I still looked odd, but I wasn't unambiguously doing anything verboten, so figured I could relax and plan my day.

I felt much restored, and over coffee and croissant spent a long time studying the map to try to get a handle on my plans for the next few days. I had quite a lot of flexibility: it was now Monday, and as long as I (by whatever means) got to the North Sea coast by Sunday I could catch my booked ferry back to England. This meant I had at least five days to reach Belgium or Luxemburg, where I knew I would have a relatively easy time catching a train to the sea.

In my somewhat hungover state the previous day I hadn't really thought much about how I planned to do this: heading back towards the Rhine was good enough for me. The damage to my front rim had also shifted my attention to the short-term: but after 40km of steady riding on it yesterday, I had convinced myself that it wasn't going to fail any time soon, and on the the flat and at relatively low speeds (like I had a choice) it was perfectly safe. It certainly seemed possible now that I might cover the 300-odd kilometres to Belgium in a relatively liesurely few days.

The actual route was completely up in the air. I had actually planned to "cheat" and catch a train North through the Germany's industrial heartland once I reached Karlsruhe - but on such a beautiful day, the idea seemed unappealing. The most direct route towards Luxemburg was to cut directly WNW towards Trier - but this would involve crossing the Saarland near Kaiserslauten, and the dense contours on my ADFC map were not inviting. Of course, following the Rhine North was a natural route. For at least two days I would have flat and easy riverside cycling that would take me closer to the coast. I wasn't sure how I would cross the Eifel to get to the West: but we'd cross that bridge (range) when we'd get there.

The first step was to get to Karlsruhe. By this time it was 6.30, and one or two cyclists were zipping past on the trail above my head. They didn't seem to notice me, but I figured it was a good time to get going. I collected and sterilised a couple of litres of water from the Enz: the sky was brilliantly clear, and it promised to be another hot one - and loaded up the Shift. After trying, and failing, to push the loaded bike directly up the very steep bank that had been sheltering me overnight, I immediately unloaded it, managed (just) to push/carry it to the top, and then ferried the pannier up in batches.

There was a little traffic on the cycleway now, but I was roundly ignored - I checked my pockets carefully to make sure I hadn't dropped e.g. my car keys by a river in the middle of nowhere, and then pedalled on. My route was, unfortunately, not totally simple. I could continue following the Enz, but this would take me on a long loop around Straubenhardt. Instead, feeling up for a couple of hundred metres climbing, I thought I'd take a "shortcut" through Arnbach to Ittersbach, rejoin the marked route, and come down via Karlsbad and Ettlingen to Karlsruhe.

Things started out well. At 7am I wheeled into picturesque Neuenburn, and was soon climbing up a rather steep residential street which oddly led up through the grounds of a hospital. I was quite pleased how strong I felt on the climb, and soon popped up on the high road above the village. The next half an hour consisted of me fighting the cycle signs, which were obsessed with sending me to the inconsequential and out-the-way village of Schwann, in the opposite direction to where I wanted to go. By the cunning strategy of going the opposite way to these signs, I found myself descending quite fast: worried both about my dubious wheel and navigation, I slowed it down, but it soon transpired I was heading to Arnbach.

I was soon being directed to Schwann again (how?), and stuck to my strategy of heading away from it. Again this paid off, though I was a bit disorientated, and spun down into Ottenhausen. This was a nice little town and I stopped at another nice little bakery for a sandwich and pastries - but I had trouble finding any route to Ittersbach. After following my "anything but Schwann" rule for a third time, and finding it only lead me away towards Keltern and Pforzheim, I eventually resorted to some tricky navigation involving my compass and a church spire. Heading out on a single-track route over the rolling hills I was rather sceptical: I passed through a lovely secluded valley - and then, to my relief, emerged in Ittersbach.

Relieved that I had avoided an energy-sapping navigation error like yesterday, I decided not to take any more shortcuts and stick to the advertsied route, which was now clearly indicating Karlsbad. I passed through fields and over a train line, and stopped to eat some pastry. A country cyclist rolled past and greeted me - it was still only going on 8am.

I descended into Karlsbad, which was choked with commuter traffic heading into Karlsruhe. After negatiating a tricky junction I turned to the west, and began to look for the cycleway to continue on to Ettlingen. I had no desire to continue to cycle on the busy rush-hour roads, and after riding with the traffic as far as a roundabout on the outskirts of town, saw the cycleway above me and thankfully left the road in its favour.

The cycleway to Ettlingen actually turned out to be very interesting, and avoided the busy roads heading down the valley through Walkbronn. It took me up through surprisingly dense forest and past the tiniest railway station I'd ever seen.

The tiny station of Reichenback Kurpark in the middle of the woods. I saw a train running and they do stop here!

Unfortunately the trail deposited me in Waldbronn, which was much more urban and involved crossing the busy road a number of times. It was often quite unclear when and where I was allowed to cycle, but I just followed the locals, of which there were now a number.

Ettlingen turned out to be a bustling and attractive place. I cut through it quickly, and was glad to pick up a cycleway sign to Karlsruhe, as I didn't really want to have to deal with urban navigation and traffic. This turned out to be a pleasant route that followed a canal for most of the 6km before depositing me just outside Karsruhe Hauptbahnhof.

This started to really confuse me: I was 90% sure that cycle "frei" meant you could cycle on it: but did it mean "cycle free"? Curse my poor language skills...

Pretty tower in Ettlingen. I once again picked up signs back to Pforzheim, which validated the kilometre counts I'd made on my map (and showed that the diversion I'd taken around Neuenburg did not actually add any distance).

The canal between Ettlingen and Karlsruhe. I really hope the owner does sit on this of an evening...

Suddenly I was in big city traffic and road system again. After some slightly hairy navigation of Karlsruhe station I went zooming down the odd system of streets radiating fan-like from the palace. You couldn't really get lost, and within ten minutes I was standing outside it. Unusually, the palace was actually built first, and the planned city built to the South of it. To the North the city stops abrubtly and a huge forest park extends for 20km. The cycle routes, now well-signed, lead directly through the park.

I planned to stick to them at least to the vicinity of Leopoldshafen, where I could cut through to the Rhine. The day was now seriously heating up, and the wooded cover was appreciated. I was again bemused to be surrounded by cycle tourists weaving through and into the park - including a remarkable number of loaded tandems, a few with children on the back. I've never totally got this, as my understanding of tandems is that the power should be on the back - but on the other hand, can reasily see why you wouldn't want a kid in charge of the steering and brakes...

The palace in Karlsruhe, and not a cloud in the sky

Entering the enormous parks to the North of the palace

Loaded touring tandems, loaded with children

The route North through the park was straight as a die, flat as a pancake, and pleasantly leafy. What possessed me to leave it for the promise of the river? Well, mainly it was thirst. Even though it was still before midday, the heat was becoming intense and I had drunk all the water I'd taken from the Enz. While shady, the park route didn't have any water sources, and I couldn't see anything on the map: no villages, churches etc - that would guarantee I would get any water for the next 20km.

I was also keen to regain the Rhine. My map indicated the Veloroute Rhine followed close to the river, and I had (not unreasonable!) visions of well surfaced, well signed and popular route, maybe with a nice shady cafe or two to rehydrate in. Unfortunately, reality was not to quite live up to imagination here...

After 8km or so through the park, then, I turned West when I saw a sign for Eggenstein. In theory I just had to continue to the West, throught he suburb of Karlsruhe, and would reach the Rhine. There were fully 4 churches marked in Eggentstein, and I figured at the very least I could buy something to drink.

What followed was an exercise in frustration. I passed directly next one church, but it had no graveyard and no obvious source of water. The town centre was busy, but there wasn't a single shop to buy food or drink. Exasperated, I rather randomly cut through to the West, down what quickly became country backroads through the marshy ground between the town and the Rhine. Why I thought I'd find water this way is a mystery, but after five minutes I passed a turn to a fishing centre. This was closed: but had abundant window boxes full of flowers. Of course, these had to be watered, and after spotting a watering can and hose, I drank my fill: downing 1.5 litres straight away, and taking another 2 litres. As I returned to my bike I passed another visitor - I must have looked a bit puzzling, but greeted him with confidence to give the impression I knew what I was doing.

Feeling much better, I continued down towards the river. I rounded a bend, then: disaster, the road ended in a dump, and there was no way through. I backtracked, and managed to cut through another way. Somehow, I wiggled through to the side of the Rhine - only to be met with piles of gravel, and no obvious way to continue along the bank. This was not what I imagined.

Finally reaching the Rhine - but the bank was impassible, and the route quickly led me away again

Feeling the heat on the exposed river bank and cursing again, I turned back inland, and managed to rejoin a canal bank that took me roughly North. I had briefly seen a Veloroute Rhine sign, but soon lost them again, and contented myself with hacking along the grassy surface next to the canal. The going wasn't particularly easy, but I figured I couldn't go too far wrong.

Well, I wasn't right there. I followed the canal North for what felt like several kilometres, and then it turned to the right, with no way to cross. I really was disorientated now, and it wasn't even clear I was on an official route. Suddenly, I was spat out onto a gravel surface, but was now heading South East, exactly the way I didn't want to go. In exasperation I looked for any way to the North. As I was studying the map, a fellow cyclist stopped and asked me if I was lost. "Uh ... Leopoldshafen, bitte?" I asked, and he led the way. But the route was closed, blocked by a huge pile of gravel and JCBs. We puzzled together, and he suggested I wander through that way anyway. I thanked him profusely, and rather sheepishly wheeled the shift through what was effectively a building site. Roundly ignored, I soon emerged in the town.

This was Leopoldshafen: so close to Eggenstein it shared a name on my map. Exhausted, dusty, but mostly just parched, I was not amused.

I continued on a likely looking road to the North, that should take me to a "refreshment" symbol on my map and back to the cycle route, if it existed. I found the gasthaus without trouble, but it was closed and the road turned out to be a dead end. I retraced, and with an air of desperation delved into the town. At random, I saw a cycleway sign pointing north to Linkenheim, and decided to abandon any attempt to stay close to the Rhine. Thankfully the route led off road and through a dense little wood - I really appreciated being shielded from the sun.

The track was rough, there were no signs and I was far from convinced I was on an official route. I navigated by compass, and when the way curved back round to the West I took it as a good sign: maybe I would be brought back to the Rhine after all? It was now almost midday, and intensely hot. I was trying to conserve my water supplies but they were dwindling: nevertheless, rather than force myself on, I decided to stop and have something of a lunch while I was under cover.

After lunch I continued on, and suddenly emerged at what seemed to be an attractive river bank with beach, sunbathers and a refreshment stand. Had I finally reached the promised route? But on pedaling out, it soon became clear that this was another little lake with a semi-private beach - and the only way out was back down a road inland. I passed the ticket booth coming away from the beach - I was entirely ignored - and before I knew it was heading back towards Linkenheim.

What followed I have a very sketchy idea of, save for constant, overwhelming heat and expanses of desolate gravel. I somehow found my way back onto a cycle route heading North from Linkenheim. At first I got lost amongst grassy lanes heading alongside wide ditches, and never quite heading North. Eventually I saw a tiny sign beside one of the large canals: Rheinniederungskanal, which did appear on my map and proceeded to the NE. After some rough surface I came onto a municipal cycleway: it was flat dusty gravel, completely deserted, and seemed to go on for kilometres.

The heat shimmered above the empty, dusty tracks. The surroundings were sun-dazzled marshland: the kind you get around rehabilitated industrial landscapes, full of wildlife I'm sure but washed out and unattractive to look at. I was seriously rationing my water, and trying to keep a reasonable pace. On the map, this route is dead straight, but I swear the cycleway kept bending around and taking me back to the West, inland. I was shouting "Just take me North!" in frustration now: fortunately there wasn't anyone around to hear me.

After what seemed like an eternity of this, I finally saw a sign. The majority of it concerned unless tedious details of the canal systems thereabouts, but there was one place name: Russheim. This I could see on my map: in theory, I had found my way out of the Leopoldshafen vortex and was now very close to the Rhine cycle route, which crossed to the nature reserve island of Elizabethenworth. I went the other way, plunged into a small wood, and was rewarded with: an official sign for the VeloRoute Rhine!

There was some wildlife in this fly-blown and sweltering swamp

The sign near the entrance to Elisabetherworth. The map is so useless, and there's so little indication of where you are, a helpful soul has added their own sign.

Compared to the purgatory of the cycleways, the route through Elisabethenworth was a breeze. It took me through deep forest, sheltered from the intense heat. The signage was better, though sometimes reverting to yellow and blue flashes which were easily missed. I crossed through the island fairly quickly and continued to the North.

On the map was another "refreshment" symbol and I hoped to refill my water, but it was closed. I was covering distance faster now, but my water was almost exhausted. The route emerged from the forest and headed into the two of Rheinsheim, past another huge power station. Signage had reverted to the friendly white-and-green, and navigation was much easier now: I don't know what on earth had happened to the stretch South to Karlsruhe. As far as I'm concerned its unnavigable - perhaps you're supposed to go down the other side of the Rhein?

It wasn't far to Philippsburg, where I would need to bend inland again to get around a large meander of the river. But I completely out of water now, and starting to become a little insensible with thirst. There was a campsite marked in Philippsburg, and as the town hove into view, I dived directly into it. As I slowly cruised around, looking for some sign of where the campsite might be, I found one car that just wouldn't pass me. This was not an uncommon experience in Germany: not quite as bad as Sweden, but sometimes cars would follow you at 10kph, with the air of "don't mind me".

Needless to say, this is infuriating. I cycled slower and slower, and tucket myself in. I started taking random turns, just to try to lose my tail. "Just pass!" I hissed through gritted teeth. Well, eventually the car passed: a big old estate car loaded with camping gear - and the driver leaned out. "You going to the campsite?" he said - and I, feeling a bit bad, followed him all the way there.

Without any messing about I wheeled straight in and headed to the bathroom block. Another 2 litres of water downed, I stood for a while in the breezeblock cool to recover. If heat and thirst were taken out of the equation, I was ok to continue. I figured I could make it to Speyer before the afternoon was out: and there were two campsites marked in the centre of town.

I continued slowly on, exiting the campsite and circumnavigating a lake to emerge back on the cycleway. Speyer now clearly appeared on the cycle signs, and I had only 20km or so to go. At last, I was spending stretches alongside the mighty Rhein. Not that it was the most attractive ride: the river was wide and industrial, with no shade at all on the banks, and huge barges plied up and down. There were some unfussy bathers dipping in the river, though.

The remainder of the ride to Speyer was fairly workmanlike. The surface and signage were good now, and I made steady, if slow, progress to the North. In Neuelussheim I passed an ice cafe - the first I had seen open of the day - and stopped for ice cream. The thermometer on the pharmacy sign across the street said 38 degrees centigrade. I paid a short visit to the local graveyard and acquired yet more water. I wasn't dehydrated yet.

Bathing in the Rhine, while the industrial barges pass

After a small hiccup when I managed to go the wrong way along the cycleway by the autobahn: I headed towards Heidelburg by mistake - I turned to the West and crossed over the Rhine. Immediately, the spires of Speyer were visible over the river. I paused to take a brief photo, and then plunged into the city.

I was pretty spent, and wanted to get to a campsite, preferably by a lake with a nice cafe, as soon as I could. Speyer had other plans for me, though.

My map showed two such sites, apparently arranged around a lake to the North of the city. I found an information board, and indeed could see the campsite marked - the route wasn't obvious, but if I saw Tullastrasse I was on the right track. I possessed no detailed map of Speyer - the entire conurbation was 3cm long on my cycle map - and without other means of navigation, I had to use intuition.

Unfortunately intuition wasn't particularly helpful. I merrily struck North, and ended up on a bypass heading round to the East. This was all to the good; and to my surprise I found myself on Tullastrasse. I cut back in to the West, looking everywhere for something that might indicate a campsite: nothing. I found myself pedaling through an interminable district of big-box stores and plumbing warehouses. I kept it up to the North, thinking that the camping must be beyond this. It was only when I rolled under an obvious autobahn overpass I realised I had left the city.

Cursing, and very tired now, I retraced my steps. The first pedestrian couple I saw I accosted and asked in poor German if they knew where the campsite was. They were enthusiastically helpful, but apparently the answer was sufficiently complicated that it actually sparked quite a heated argument between them, while I looked on in increasing bewilderment. From gestures I got the impression it was back towards the town, but this didn't bode well.

Back through the region of warehouses and building suppliers I went, looking for anything promising. Suddenly, as part of one of the giant retail park signs, I saw one for a campingplatz. But the route seemed to take me into a housing estate. Rather desperate now and just keen to get out of this dismal subdivision, I headed down a cycle path off road. Again I saw a walker, and again asked about the campingplatz - and again, got a worryingly hesitant answer.

I popped out on a road that finally seemed to be heading out into the country. Attached to a lamppost was something interesting: it seemed to be advertising stables and had a prominent picture of a horse, but also contained the word "camping". Could this be it? Or was it horse accommodation only? It was my best lead.

I followed the road around - and a field of static homes became apparent next to the lake. Surely this was it? Around the corner, and a number of tents - so this was campingplatz Thomashof. But where was the reception? I wondered past the tents, washrooms, and into the static homes. I got a few funny looks there with the loaded bike, and was (very politely) directed back to the big house to check in by a couple of campers. Actually they were quite strict, though the effect was undercut by them both being in bathing costumes and holding large inflatable rings.

I went back to the big house, which seemed to be impenetrable. Further along I could see a fellow feeding some children in the garden - he too directed me back to the house. So in the courtyard I went, and rang the impressively big, brass bell hanging from a hook. I was tremendously glad to see the friendly family emerge. I would need to leave a deposit for the key, 50 euros. No problem. 10 euros for the pitch - bargain!

They didn't have too much space for tents and were busy, so had opened up part of the playing field. I didn't mind this at all, and plonked myself down next to what was evidently some other cycle tourists. My young hostess showed me around with boundless enthusiasm, which I rather struggled to keep up with. Amazingly, there were laundry and cooking facilities we could use: and she recommended the Greek restaurant I could see across the lake. "Just swim over, I have!" she said.

I staggered over, filled myself up with water and had a much needed shower. I had avoided dehydration by the smallest margin - even as the sun went down, it was still swelteringly hot. I was somewhat disconcerted on returning to see the bike tourists I had set up next to were a family with young children. They were impressively organised and almost totally quiet though. As I prepared to attempt to find food, some young chaps also on bikes rolled up, and I greeted them.

I wasn't quite up to swimming across to the restaurant - apart from anything, where would I put my wallet? - but I figured it couldn't be too hard to walk around the lake. Apparently not - the owners had sealed off the shore line. I managed to get to the section surrounded by the caravans by the simple expedient of walking through the gate with confidence, but after a five minute pleasant stroll around, was met by a high wall and barbed wire. Neither did the public road seem to go around. Ah well, I would head into town, where my hostess had said there was a pizza place not too far.

Campingplatz Thomashof - a lovely place really, but a devil to find

The lake by the campsite is rather lovely too, if somewhat inaccessible

So, to my astonishment I found the pizza place almost immediately, even though it was 1km away and deep in the heart of retail park country. In my exhausted state, I actually had trouble finding the entrance, and managed to wonder into an unbelievably seedy bar next to it. The door was open but there were no customers. After a slightly confusing exchange with the owner, it appeared it was shut on Monday nights. Damn.

Now, the old part of Speyer looked charming. But I'm sad to record once you get a kilometer out to the North, the city seems to consist of a huge, reticulated grid of big-box stores, soulless retail parks, arteries of traffic and car part warehouses. Frankly, it's my vision of purgatory and is more like a German version of Stevenage than anything else. Nothing was human scale, I was on foot, and at 6pm on a Monday night there were no shops open. For a full hour I trudged through this forsaken district, vainly trying to find the Lidl promised on the signs. I passed multiple low-rent casinos, tanning shops, and bathroom suppliers, but not a single bar, restaurant, cafe or shop that could sell me the basics of human survival. Eventually I found the Lidl - the fact that it did not have its entrance facing the road, so there was no way to tell it was closed until I'd walked through the giant car park tells you how many pedestrians they expect.

I back tracked and found a Netto that was open. This is the lowest on the supermarket scale in Germany, but I wasn't fussy. It was a bit of shambles inside - there were no shopping baskets or trollies - despite the incredibly helpful guy on the till spent a good five minutes looking for one for me. Feeling very odd now, I just picked up an old cardboard palette and said I'd use that. It was spectacularly cheap - for about 7 euros I got a feast: beer, cheese slab burgers and buns, crisps, pastries, coffee. All the beer was under 1 euro - I looked for the most expensive I could, since I couldn't carry much back the 2km to the campsite - but failed to spend more than 79c on each bottle.

The sun was low and it was finally cooling off. I made my way without great mishap back to the campsite: I now knew I could take a shortcut on the footpaths through the housing estates, so cutting off the trudge through the retail parks. It really was like Stevenage! I arrived and cooked myself up a fairly huge meal, frying the interesting vegetarian burgers: just blocks of cheese - on my stove and seasoning the with chili.

I had a good chat with the newly arrived young chaps. They were Germans from the Baltic coast, who were biking from the North-East to the South-West of Germany. They had come from Frankfurt that day, and had done 150km in the heat; they had one small tent which they crammed themselves into. In one more day they would reach Basel and the end of their journey. An impressive achievement. They let me know the max temperature in the day had been 39 degrees.

I sat my lamp on a small table and ate my feast, and drank beer as the dark really came down. It had been intense but the day was over, and there was a great sense of peace as the children playing around the field were put to bed.

Today's ride: 124 km (77 miles)
Total: 824 km (512 miles)

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Mike Ayling124km in 39C - Respect!
You have to keep the hydration up at that temperature!
Mike
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