Ben Welsher | Writings

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 sh...

Day 1 - Basel to Ottmarsheim The fact that I was violently cursing a hunk of metal as I struggled to drag it onto a train had to go down as a major success. I'd found an suitable alternative model of bike and hit what few shops in Munich purported to sell it. And sell it they did, in the wrong size, or with the wrong brakes, or the right size with the right brakes...on the women's model. It was early afternoon by now and shops were starting to close, indeed the one we were in had only 30 minutes until closing. As I despaired at the options I spied from the corner of my eye a bike I had considered at the very start of my spreadsheet marathon. It was the older model and had seen enough test rides to make 'new' a debatable descriptor but it might just do. The price was luficrous, a fact the salesman also recognised by immediately dropping it by 200 euros. A bit more haggling and it had new wheels and security bolts for a final bill that was acceptable in my circumstances....