Ben Welsher | Writings

Day 4 - Strasbourg to Munchhausen Four parts nitrogen to one part oxygen and a pinch of carbon dioxide and argon. Injected straight into the inner tubes of a bicycle it works wonders for its speed. We left Strasbourg a good deal quicker than we entered it. Despite the speed we discovered that leaving a large city by bike is no pleasant experience. The cycle lane wove below, between and onto busy a-roads that may or may not have had speed limits. It prompted a constant awareness of our squishyness and I cannot say it was fun. The Germans do a good deal more for cyclists than we do at home though, lanes were completely segregated for large parts and relatively little time was spent under the protection of white lines. Eventually we escaped the city's tendrils and found our way back to the Rhine. It took us through small French villages which to describe as sleepy would be an exaggeration. The hot midday sun beat down onto empty streets and shuttered houses, l'apocalypse des zomb...

Day 3 - Rhinau to Strasbourg This was not the travelling life. Sandra had found it increasingly hard to coax any speed out of her bike in the last two days. We couldn't diagnose any obvious problem and I was now carrying most of the baggage but here we were riding through the suburbs of Strasbourg at an escargot's pace. The bike lanes were no longer solely ours as a multitude of other cyclists suddenly appeared and a cheery 'bonjour' was no longer appropriate. We eventually made it to Petit France, a particularly attractive area, in time for a late lunch. It soon became clear that we'd be going no further that day and as I sat with a cold beer overlooking the river I could think of worse hardships. Strasbourg really is a very beautiful city which is all the more remarkable given that it has changed hands 5 times between France and Germany. I would highly recommend a visit. Catalans had arrived enmass to complain about their elected representatives being unable to ...

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....

Day 0 - London to Munich A simple idea rarely retains its virginal simplicity when further thought upon. A simple plan sprouts like knotweed when developed. But then again I'm not sure why I ever thought that riding a bike from Germany to the UK would be a simple thing. The genesis of this trip was in Sandra's determination that flying her bicycle over from Munich (on a plane, it's just a normal bike) was too expensive and inconvenient so why don't we ride back instead? She'd left it there when moving to the UK. I liked the idea instantly. It combined adventure with time spent in nature and I would be able to boast in years to come of the great physical exertion of a thousand kilometre journey and pretend, to my audience, that I was a person that enjoyed great physical exertions. The trip would also allow me to spend inordinate hours researching and inadvisable amounts of money on a bike. For this is something I did not possess. And this is where the plan immediate...