Heading East

August 9, 2019 to August 10, 2019

Having slept well - I needed it after my 2am bike maintenance session the previous night - I took my time getting up as the ferry docked. Too much time, actually, as they'd stopped serving breakfast, but this wasn't took big a deal as I had a wealth of calories in my panniers. Down in the cardeck, I untied the bike and slipped past the cars - one of the first off, I was also the first to be pelted with the driving rain as we emerged from the ferry's interior. Even before the passport control I'd stopped and pulled on my waterproof. Considering I didn't wear this a single time during the sun-blasted last tour (we had some rain, but I was so thankful for its cooling effect I just got wet), this certainly was an auger of the variety I'd get in the coming days.

As usual the passport check is quick and super-friendly - the border police look genuinely pleased to see you coming - and I could set out on the ride to Den Haag. As has been the case for some years now, there is no connecting train from the ferryport at Hoek - while they are building a replacement there is a bus service, but it won't take bikes. This necessitates a pleasant but surprisingly lengthy 30km-odd ride across the dunes. Fortunately, having 4 hours before my train left, I could take this at leisure - I had done it twice before under time pressure and then it was onerous.

I follow the route between the national cycle points as suggested by holland-cycling.com. This has the advantage of being followable without complicated directions (or frankly even a map) - with a list of numbered points, you just have to aim for the next in the sequence. The route is not the most direct but is scenic even on a rainy day, going through the dunes. On this soggy early Friday morning I had it almost eerily to myself.

A sea of greenhouses. Somewhere in all this is a big paprika factory which I passed last time, where they dry out the peppers. It smells great!

In amongst the highly industrialised greenhouses they also rear sheep and grow more unusual vegetables, like these odd squashes

I had this stretch of the Nordsee route to myself on this rainy weekday morning

The route works superbly, until you get into the outskirts of Den Haag. Here the GPS started to show its worth - I didn't particularly want to have to cast around for the station like last time, so it quickly got my back on route. Last time I was under great pressure to get the station in 90 mins, and didn't see much of the centre. This time I went through the diplomatic district, crammed with embassies and consulates. Den Haag is very much a diplomatic and administrative hub in the Netherlands, Europe and the World.

Some grand, if soggy buildings in the diplomatic centre of Den Haag

So there was no manic hurry to get the train, and I could finally have breakfast and load up on sandwiches at Den Haag central station. All my tickets were ready, and at noon I boarded the regional train to Zwolle. This journey had been a bit crammed on my previous trips, but here there were few other bikes. I had a comfortable 20 minute change to the opposite platform at Zwolle, where I had a place booked on the intercity all the way to Berlin. That train too was half-empty, and it was simple to get the bike onto the special cycle-car (which can hold, as I found out two years ago, dozens of bikes).

I helped a chap with a balloon-tyred bike get his installed - the tyres were too wide for the rack! Chris was a very friendly German fellow heading home after his own tour - his speciality was odd-road riding. After chatting of bike stuff in general and fun with languages, we rather shyly got onto wild camping - and he was an enthusiastic proponent. He was a much more proper bushcrafter than me though - always preparing his own fires. He'd ridden from near Cologne into the Netherlands to stay with his family, and was now getting the train back.

I wished him farewell after we crossed the border at Rheine, and we continued to move smoothly to Berlin. The train would take me right through the city, which is almost a dispersed collection of towns, to the Ostbahnhof where I could make my final change for Frankfurt O.

A thoroughly unremarkable picture of the Shift on the Dutch trains. It's remarkable to me though - there's so few other bikes!

Wolkswagen factory at Wolfsburg. This is only a very small part of it - it's apparently the largest manufacturing facility in the world

Fernsehturm! It really is enormous, as the towerblocks in front hopefully show.

I was hoping to get something to eat in the 45 mins I had in the Ostbahnhof, but it was thoroughly deserted, so I contented myself with the vending machine. The Frankfurt train was a slow commuter, so it was easy to get my bike inside - compared to my previous journeys across Germany and France, this had been a breeze.

At 9pm I arrived in a dark Frankfurt (Oder). The town is actually quite grand, with hilly, cobbled streets. I found the hotel Zur alten oder without much trouble, and even had a somewhat successful exchange in German while checking in with the friendly lady on the reception (and was able to show off my most esoteric bit of vocabulary, fahradkeller - got to love those compound words). Bike safely stowed in the bike cellar, I head out into the town to try to find something to eat.

It was a Friday night, and the town was substantial, but the streets were deserted. Frankfurt O. has an aura of faded grandure, with some impressive buildings but also the biggest (though admittedly gleaming) job centre I had ever seen. Job centres in England tend to be extremely run down after decades of neglect - it seems that this part of the old East still has a serious unemployment problem, but at least the federal government are putting in resources to try to fix it.

In the main square, I saw one establishment with people eating outside, and to my joy found it to be a Greek restaurant. Delicious, filling and informal, this was what I needed. A few Saganaki later - and hearing German, Polish and Greek all spoken around me - and I was very content. The number of diners affectionately calling each other "malaka" seemed to indicate that a real Greek community was here (apparently, this broadly translates as "wanker", so I think the advice is not to use it as a familiar term unless you know what you're doing).

Some of the grand buildings in Frankfurt O. Unfortunately this didn't come out too well.

DER ODERTURM! Again, my shaky camerawork has rendered this rather experimental

It was a warm evening now - we seemed to have left the rain and cold of the low countries far behind - and my room was a little how. I dozed off with the fan on and window open, but then slept well. A great and filling breakfast the following day, and I had plenty of time for my 10am train into Poland. I can very much recommend the Alten Oder hotel if you're ever in this part of the world - excellent and good value (€45 with breakfast).

I stocked up with more excellent German baked goods at the bakery in the station - I knew it'd be a while before I re-entered the Teutonic lands and their mastery of the bread and pastry. At the station, the only way East was into Poland and most of the trains were Polish railway PKP rather than German.

Waiting for the train that will take me into Poland. I would only be going as far as Poznan, but it's the express that goes all the way to Warsaw. I had ridden this ten years or so ago when going overland to the Baltics.

The Shift meekly waits against the barrier

The train arrived, and there was the usual scramble to work out where to load the bike. I finally saw a bicycle symbol on the very last carriage, and ran to meet it. There didn't really seem to be any designated places, but I had the right ticket and leaned the Shift right up against the back of the carriage. From here I had a great view of the rails receding behind the train.

The Oder with Frankfurt beyond. For many years the land to the East was Teutonic or Prussian - though historically this was the beginning of the Slav lands

The land near the border is wooded and depopulated, and the rail line runs straight as a die for many miles. I had a great view back over the rails.

I put on some music on my headphones and followed my progress over the map (I was interrupted only by the slight embarrassment of being tapped on the shoulder by a friendly Polish bloke who wanted to use the toilet when I was too deeply absorbed). The stops were listed on the window, and I was surprised that this did stop on the way to Poznan.

As a line from Geoffrey Household's Rougue Male (I will mention this again) went through my head ... "a fine imaginative mind he had ... not many people would be able to change their holiday plans in the middle" ... I came up with a hypothetical. What if I didn't go to Poznan, but got off in the countryside somewhere to the west? Then I would have essentially the same length of day, but avoid the first 15km of city, suburbs and traffic. The train stopped in Zbąszynek ... some squinting at the map seemed to show that this was a rather tiny village, near a lake some 50km west of Poznan.

It was a bit of a wildcard move, but I couldn't see a downside. On a whim, when the station was announced, I hurriedly pulled the bike down into the small and dusty station.

Today's ride: 35 km (22 miles)
Total: 50 km (31 miles)

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