Day 46: Friday, 24 June 1983

Start: Campground, Liblar, Germany

End: Hostel, Beegden, Netherlands

Up early and riding. Day turning very hot and humid. Could be hottest day so far, and humidity -- unlike dry heat in Greece and southern Italy -- makes it much worse.

Not much to report on the ride. Tried to drink a lot of water. In one place I was dry and couldn't find H2O to refill bottles, so I ended up knocking on a random door and convincing a somewhat mystified hausfrau to let me fill up at her kitchen sink. Not my usual behavior pattern, but it's damn hot. I kept thinking I should stop for a break, but every time I paused it seemed much hotter. Riding, at least I make a little breeze for myself. No shade on the road. Try not to push it too hard.

Eventually crossed into the Netherlands. Into Roermond for cash, maps, and a beer. Met up with a cheery Dutch guy who showed me a pub, bought me a cold one, and led me to the youth hostel in Beegden.

Nice hostel with a good, secure storage area for Bob. Unlike most of the hostels I've seen, instead of a dorm I have a small room with two beds to myself. I'm having a late afternoon nap when an Irishman with a guitar arrives to take the other bed. He starts up a little conversation. I suddenly realize I haven't been talking much in the last few days, and almost not at all to anyone with the same first language. Maybe that's why I kind of choke and stumble on my words. 

"Well," he wants to know with a grin, "is it true you speak English?" 

I laugh and assure him I think I can almost remember how to talk.

We chatter a bit as he puts away his gear and I suggest we go across the street for a cold one to wash the dust out. He's a little embarrassed, because he's on a tight budget. No problem. So many people have been buying me beers on this expedition that I can stand him a couple of rounds. He's been travelling by bike for three weeks, it turns out, busking along the way to make a little money. He's pretty much astounded by my fancy panniers and gear. I joke about the Irishman Mike and I met outside Athens who had ridden down from Denmark with everything piled into a metal basket on the front of his bike. When we go out to make sure our bikes are locked up, I realize he has exactly the same kind of old bike with a metal basket bolted in front. He starts laughing. "You see, that's the way we do it over in Ireland." Now I definitely owe him some beers.

We spend the rest of the day in the bar while he regales me with stories of bicycling back home, mostly involving, it seems, pubs, pints, and wagers.

Conditions 

Distance: 80 km  

Weather: Very hot and humid 

Road: Good 

Traffic: Moderate 

Terrain: Flat 

Mechanical: All is well 

Physical: Strong, but hot