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Thunderstruck

Day 2 - Ottmarsheim to Rhinau


The snap of lycra and a greasy smear all over my sensitive areas marked the start of our first full day in the saddle. I had again followed the internet's advice slavishly and decided the practical indignity of wearing cycling bib shorts could be mitigated by never looking at myself in a mirror while wearing them, I wasn't sure how Sandra would cope with the sight though. The greasy substance was described as chamois butter and aided with the inevitable chafing or so I was told. Our route took us inland from the winding river and we passed through great fields of what looked like corn crowned by arcing jets of water to irrigate them. The land was wonderfully flat and the conditions were perfect for cycling, we pootled among covering 15 kilometres each hour. As midday came we neared Neuf-Brisach, town constructed by the French in 1697 after the Germans nicked the original Breisach on the other side of the Rhine. The old town is built within star shaped fortifications and to look at it you would think the Germans were coming for it too as barely a soul stirred in the main square. There were few people and even fewer shops from which to buy lunch in this ghost town.

We left the high walls and crossed the moat to the newer part that overspilled and there we found an Aldi to provide some lunch. It was fortuitous timing as no sooner had we finished the shop than an almighty thunderstorm erupted above our heads. Rain and then marble-sized hailstones pinged off car roofs and a torrent of water gushed from broken guttering. We (Sandra)  hadn't really packed for these conditions so we stood with our bread and cheese balanced on the rows of shopping trolleys pondering the next move. Shoppers came and went, some risking the dash back to the car and others content to wait out the storm. A local drunk stood by emitting a grunt every now and then, perhaps dismayed at the weather keeping him from a favoured bench. Maybe he was cursed with control of the weather, his dark moods at the misfortunes that had befallen him in life transmuted into angry precipitation that followed wherever he went. We lost a couple of hours to the weather before decided we must make a break for it during a lull. There was another 40km to cover to reach our chosen campsite, an ambitiously long day for novice cyclists. We reached it just before 8pm and managed to rouse the manager who greeted us with that French indignation at having customers. We ate the rest of the lunch as ants covered us like sand and giant flying insects dive bombed from the trees above. A cold beer in hand salved any pains though, this was the traveling life!

Kilometres travelled: 647
Kilometres rode: 118
Falls: 1

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