Canyon to Rapha — a bikepacking tramp across Germany: Part 3
Day 2 (Ballersbach -> Melsungen)
Distance: 136km
Terrain: Rolling hills, lots of gravel and dirt roads.
Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/1567498992
I wake up around 6 am as the early morning sunlight is already piercing through the tent. I use the term ‘wake up’ loosely as it was undoubtedly one of the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had. It turns out that my little patch of woodland was not only near a busy road but also a banging club. Between the music, cars and erratic temperatures, I hardly slept a wink. But more importantly: I’d survived and all I could think about was finding some breakfast.
As I come to, my eyes begin to focus on the moving silhouettes above my head. At first I think some spiders have crawled into the warmth of my shelter, but I wasn’t so lucky — instead, my tent was crawling with ticks! *Barf*. On the plus side, they were stuck on the outside of the inner tent, unable to further advance on their would-be prey. Regardless, I was still horrified and swiftly began trying to flick them off. This further incentivised me to pack up quickly. Somehow I managed to escape with all my blood still in my body — despite finding two of the tiny bastards crawling along my hands. It should come as no surprise that I felt ‘itchy’ the whole day, and even writing about it makes me itch!
I made my way back down the hill to the bike path I’d left the night before. A man out for an early morning walk sees me and I swear he begins to start filming on his phone. Maybe I’m just being paranoid but I don’t stick around to find out and I swiftly pedal away out of sight. It feels good to be back on the bike after such an awful night and harrowing morning. I soon realise that my left knee is hurting and hope it won’t hinder my progress. My body isn’t used to climbing — and it’s even less used to a 20kg bike.
I’ve made sure to carry plenty of muesli bars on me so that I can fuel up before finding something more substantial to eat. Bakeries often aren’t easy to find, so breakfast comes from a petrol station — the lifeblood of a bikepacker. Whilst munching down on a pastry, I decided that I’d quite like to stay in a hotel tonight if I can find one. Whilst it feels a bit like “cheating”, I know it’s the best thing to do keep me moving. I tell myself that I’ll focus on riding until about 5 pm when I can better calculate where I’ll end up and thus, what will be nearby. I’d end up repeating this planning process for the remainder of the journey, whether sleeping in the tent or somewhere more comfortable.
Today is another day of sublime gravel and quiet country roads draped over the ever-undulating terrain. It’s also ridiculously warm, and it isn’t long before I‘m stuffing my gilet into a jersey pocket — where it remains for the rest of the day.
My route often takes me away from the main roads which means I can go for a long time without seeing another human being. But despite this, it always feels that life is simply happening everywhere around you; in spite of your presence. You are just an audience member: a passing witness to a mere sliver of other people’s lives. It adds to the sense of freedom and discovery.
By lunchtime, the pain in my knee subsides and I leave the open fields for more woodland. First, I come across a fallen tree that covers the path, then further along a tractor blocks the entire road. I manage to skirt along the edge of the path only to discover that the driver is nowhere to be seen. Whilst it feels like a scene from a zombie movie, I’m sure he is off doing something useful (like eating someone’s brain).
The architecture of the towns and villages that I pass through begins to change, as a more traditional aesthetic takes over — in which brick is swapped for wood. It’s a welcome change as it feels like I am finally discovering parts of Germany that lie far away from the prying eyes of tourists. These are places you’d never visit unless it was on the way to somewhere else.
As I enter one town, I find a walk-in vending machine for fresh produce from a farm. Such technology is at odds with its surroundings! I poke my head in to wonder at all the food. Alas, eggs and milk are not the order of the day. With nothing much else to the town, I am soon out the other side and as I look down from an old stone bridge — I notice a long line of classic cars parked up next to the stream below. It’s the most people I’ve seen all day! A little further on, I’m stopped dead in my tracks as the road becomes flooded by a stream of sheep and goats. Such impediments are always a welcome part of the journey and they are coming thick and fast today.
I turn off down an old road and follow a crumbling iron fence along the perimeter of a huge estate. Just up the hill, there’s a bench, so I sit and have a rest, looking over at the proud manor house poking out through a gap in the trees. After a small time, I carry on back up the path through the woods until I reach a clearing to find what looks like an old mill. I read the plaque on the side — it’s a border watchtower from the Middle Ages! Of course, it is — such findings seem quite typical in a nation that was so pivotal in the times of the Holy Roman Empire.
The towns I’m now travelling through seem more rugged and rural than before and remind me of riding through the poor and isolated parts of the Czech Republic. As someone just passing through, this makes every town that I encounter all the more interesting. However, I do wonder how tough life must be for the people who live here.
Today’s riding reminds me a lot of riding in Spain in that it’s hot, quiet and of the tarmac roads I do encounter: they are silky smooth. Dotted across the landscape are small yet steep hills with all manner of buildings on top of them. One such place is Homberg, which has some castle ruins looming above the town below. The town itself is incredibly quaint with beautiful wooden buildings throughout. Architecturally, it doesn’t feel like it has changed in hundreds of years. However, for the first time, I can really see what an impact the refugee crisis has had. The German state of Hessen where I am now has taken in 50% more refugees than Rhineland-Pfalz where I was before — and 50% more than where I live now in Berlin. Whilst I applaud the amazing efforts of Germans who have welcomed refugees to their towns and cities — it’s also easy to see how there could be friction. The stark contrast between the Germany of old and present day is amplified in a town such as this one.
I have a lot of time to think about this as I navigate my way through the town that has shut off the main road that runs through it. To me, it seems that language is the real barrier, rather than the culture. Once you’ve learnt German, it’s much easier to get a job and thus easier to integrate. I just hope the refugees are able to learn German quicker than me! On the plus side, I’ve only been speaking English with myself and it’s been good to flex my German-speaking muscles. But it’s a good reminder to make more of an effort to improve my language skills.
5 pm comes around quickly and so I calculate where I might end up. My mind hasn’t changed concerning the hotel and right now I’m looking forward to a proper wash and tick-free sleeping arrangement. I find a cheap hotel not far off of my route (about 2 hours ride away) and book a room. With a new spring in my cadence, I set off for Melsungen — my destination for today.
The towns that I pass all seem to blur into one and it’s no wonder why… Holzhausen, Morshausen, Berndshausen, Dickershausen, Sipperhausen, Dagobertshausen, Elfershausen and finally, Adelshausen. The last couple of hours have flown by and as I head up the last few evil gradients to the hotel I feel a sense of contentment.
The hotel staff are surprisingly friendly and help me carry my heavy bike bags up to my room. I’m hungry but I decide to wash both kits and my clothes in the sink first before hunting down some dinner. I use every towel at my disposal to wring as much water out as possible. The radiators aren’t working but the temperature inside the room is probably warm enough to dry them out. Maybe.
I walk gingerly down the hill to the city centre on the other side of the river. Whilst I’ve managed to make myself look quasi-normal with jeans and a t-shirt, I’m still wearing my bright yellow cycling shoes. But it’s Germany, so no-one is going to judge me for poor fashion choices. I sit in the market square and take time to enjoy a Schnitzel and chips, washed down with a couple of regional wheat beers. It feels like sheer luxury after last night!
I get back to the hotel and promptly get ready for bed. But not before I jot down some thoughts in my notebook and record what would be the only podcast from the trip: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/this-must-be-a-mistake/id1367004335
I utilise every plug at my disposal and make the most of the wifi before finally going to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll be heading to the region of Harz where I’ll face some proper hills — including the highest point in Germany: the Brocken!
Thank you for following my journey thus far — read ‘Part 4’ here.
