That bike does look serious, yes. Did you consider Darth Rider or Earth 'nvader or some such?

I'm glad to know there is someone on the forum who will not roll their eyes when I mention JandD for packing items.

I'd say follow Rick's advice about packing for the best-case scenario and dealing with any hiccups by getting something else while you're on route. For me, the likelihood is that I packed too many layers for the weather that actually occurs.

Bon voyage!

Hank. I look forward to following your trip report. Do you have to break in a bike like a pair of shoes before a trip?

Hope you get some sleep tonight!

Thanks for the sleep wishes - I think they help.

A bike does need to be broken in, but minimally. Cables stretch, spokes need to be ridden before they can be set at a true tension, etc. And before a trip I always want to be sure that cockpit ergonomics are still comfortable for long days riding. My body ages and how I sit on bike needs to change.

More than anything though I need breaking in. It's important to ramp up base miles in the legs, then close to departing ease back a little to arrive fresh. My conditioning isn't as good right now as it has been on past trips. But I'm going to try to embrace this by riding shorter and easier - no 100 mile days, no 5000 foot climbs, etc. Intention is to cruise, take a bit more time, depart later and arrive earlier.

But we shall see - my default mode is usually barreling forward, destination focused. Old dog needs to learn a new trick :)

Hank, happy touring!

Unless you’ll be sporting a pompadour and/or a heavy leather biker jacket, Fonzie doesn’t quite seem to fit your new Salsa. Neither does Richie, Ralph, or Potsie, which would be even dorkier.

Your camouflage frame bag gives it an understated military look … what about Black Ops?

Cyn I agree Fonzie might not be right. My other Salsa bike is a hot pink Cutthroat, which in theory could be Pinkie, Fonzie's most famous girlfriend. But still.

Barney was an absolutely perfect name for my previous purple Diamant 135. The Fargo is similarly a goofy kind of dorky bike in the world of bicycles. It not only has an alt bar, and I have not only put bar ends on said alt bar, but I have also mounted aero bars to the alt bar. Aero bars mounted high.

It is incredibly comfortable to sit on all day - when I get tired I can lay down on the aero bars where it is so comfortable I have to be careful not to fall asleep. But if the owner of a classic Colnago looked at the Fargo and started spontaneously vomiting, I would understand. So dorky!

Maybe Donkey is a good name, like from Shrek. Connotes "dork" in a Hawaiian slang. Donkey is already my dog's nickname though, not sure what the rules are re nickname cross-pollonization.

Anyway, time and trip prep March forward. Slept great last night T-minus 3 nights until lift off. Just waiting for the last few things to show up from Amazon, trauma pads for the first aid kit, and some little packs of chamois cream. Hopefully if one gets used it's the latter. Fingers crossed.

I need to practice my pocket full of polite German phrases a bit. I know them, but it's better to hear them and say them out loud a bunch of times so they roll off the tongue. Feels better than being hamstrung trying to remember bitte shon. When I was a kid and I went to a German preschool. Or rather an American preschool run by a German woman, Ursula. We used to sing a song that, reportedly, was taught to American GI's during the war.:

Danke schön, bitteschön, wiedersehen, nach ein bier, comen sie hier ..."

I found the song on YouTube, seems as if the part we would sing in kindergarten is actually part of a folksy American tune about not being able to communicate in a foreign country. In any case, it's a funny song in a beer hall tempo, linked below if you want to give it a listen.

https://youtu.be/MpIFJi26lZ8?feature=shared

Day before departure. Everything is in order. Bike is packed. Sleep has rebounded to good. I'm happy to not start traveling with a sleep deficit.

The past couple of trips I have taken a ride outside for a couple hours the day before departure. Keep the legs loose, not pushing or anything. But I've been hit by a car, and hit by an e-bike the last couple of times. In designated bike lanes, 100% completely the fault of the people who hit me.

This year I'm a little paranoid. I've been riding smartbike inside for almost the past week - as long as the ceiling doesn't collapse, I'm safe to go healthy into the trip.

Everything that is going on the trip is in a box in my bedroom. This afternoon I will pack it into the bike bag and backpack that are also in that box, leaving out of course what I will wear tomorrow to the airport. But the box is the trip administrator - it says to me, hey Hank, if that's going to go then it needs to be in me, because I don't trust you and the butterflies that run your brain.

Almost everything in the box at this point actually. Still need to load "los tres P's," a Spanish language colloquialism communicated to me by one of my local coordinators when I was leading trips to Argentina.
The three P's are plata (money/wallet), passport, and phone. According to said Argentine local coordinator, these are the three last things that you want to lose if you're traveling. Checking the three P's has become something of a family travel mantra. Right before you walk out of the hotel room, you physically feel those objects. Has worked so far so fingers crossed.

Have also been trying to eat healthy before heading out the door. Drink water, eat whole foods. The overnight flight and change of time zone can bung up the digestive system, so I make some effort to go into that little gauntlet feeling clean. And then make an effort not to overeat or eat too much junk on the flight day. Which can be hard when you have nothing to do, you're in business class, and they put down a beautiful cheese plate in front of you. Perhaps worth the potential stomach problems? I mean we are talking about cheese after all. You got to live!

I've been reading a fairly interesting, if not masterfully written book that aspires to compile all of the local folktales in the history of Bruges. Written by a Bruges tour guide. Lots of medieval mindsets, magic, devils, angels, etc. much apocrypha near to history. I've picked out four or five of the best little tales, which I will endeavor to read to my daughter and her friend at some points along the trip so that Bruges might come even more alive for them.

Also have the collected stories of John Cheever on Audible. So good, in so many ways holds a mirror up to the upper middle class lightly country-clubby in city neighborhood of Seattle where I live. I see other people and the stories more than myself, but I suppose I'm in there too, at least by proxy. He's a great writer, Cheever. Subtly postmodern, sometimes even drifting into something like magic realism, and thematically the last word on the post WWII suburban ascendancy, particularly those living up the commuter rail lines, north of NYC. He also crafts beautiful sentences. Parts of his skill set there remind me of Hemingway. I think he and his contemporaries are underappreciated, and I'm glad to have revisited.

Outside of those things, and a playlist or two of music on my phone, I don't have a lot of media coming along with me. I'm not sure if I'm going to want it. And sometimes it's nice to veg out in the evening and watch a familiar TV show or something. But I have a VPN, so can get it all that stuff if I wanted anyway.

One more sleep and then the grand departure. Should be a fun day.

Sounds great. Maybe a possible veg out show could be the episode of Seinfeld that was about John Cheever?

Season four:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0697673/

Solid Seinfeld episode, accurate too in that Cheever was bisexual and had many affairs. Alcoholism issues too. Susan's parents are the type of people Cheever wrote about.

Hank, I don't think I've read your past trip reports. But I am sure looking forward to reading this one! Safe travels.

1

After solid sleep on an uneventful flight, this trip started with a mistake, left one of my bike bags on the plane. Contained all of my clothing, first aid kit, various other stuff. By the time I was able to to contact Condor Airlines at the airport, the plane was locked down, indeterminate when cleaning crew would be passing through.

Dealing with Condor Airlines over a bag left on the plane felt like dealing with a Soviet post office. Desk agent not only dour, but barely masking gleeful schadenfreude. Handed me a tiny chit with an email add address on it. When pressed several times said my bag might be shipped to me in about a week. Absolutely nothing else could be done, and she just stopped talking completely. Quite the whiplash experience after Condor's phenomenally good customer service in Business Class. I guess the song was over, my nickel dance was done, don't let the door hit you on the way out, and F-off for good measure. Almost gave me the bends.

I asked to speak to somebody higher up. Silently ignored me. We were working our way towards the situation where security drags me away and my imaginary German lawyer speaks to someone much higher up at Condor. She really liked that I was feeling unhappy. Misery loves company I suppose.

A younger employee, North African ethnicity, was off the clock but on her way out came over to intervene. She was remarkably helpful, calling the single person in charge of all left luggage and getting a lot more quality information, provided a description of my bag, offered to be looped in on my emails to make sure things were moving forward. Enormous cultural difference there.

It's been a few days, and since then it has really struck me on this trip how bad customer facing lower level workers are in at least this part of Germany. I think they have two interview questions for those types of jobs: Are you clinically depressed? And do you in general hate people? Hired! Seriously, because I lost my stuff I've had to do a fair bit of retail, and it has been a parade of utterly miserable affects, with a side of aggressive hostility. These poor people. They must have to ban ropes in the workplace, and lock the door to the roof. ;)

But no big deal, nothing personal. Just politely press until you gain the information you seek - grudgingly and as if it is a massive burden - and move on. Plenty of reasonably happy Germans out there for sure, just not working in big box type bike shops etc.

And it's been okay not having 2/3 of my stuff. Had to a pair of mountain bike shorts with the liner, some pedals, a rear rack trunk bag. Kind of entertaining rolling with things that are not my things; they work just as well as my things did, and are rapidly becoming my things. I'm not sure what I'll do when and if my actual things are sent from the East German post office. I suppose introduce them and suggest we all move in together.

2

I had everything I needed to assemble my bike out of its cardboard box, except for pedals, which for some reason I decided to carry on. I wanted to get mobile, so the first thing I did before I left the Frankfurt airport, before even finding a hotel, was identify the closest open bike shop. It was 4 miles away.

How would I get there? The S-Bahn was going to require a change, and I didn't want to immediately get into the logistics of dragging a bike around on trains in the city. So I pushed my seat all the way down, and like a giant toddler push-biked my way, 4 miles through the suburbs, legs swinging back and forth rhythmically as I pushed along. Nothing like landing in a foreign country and immediately becoming a comic public spectacle. I imagined I was the subject of many dinner conversations: "well today I saw an apparently feeble-minded American man riding a bicycle designed for an extremely large baby."

Also of note, push biking is tough on your backside. I never really considered this, but much dynamic movement in a pair of regular street pants pretty quickly had the contact points of my undercarriage and grinding down. I've since been able to ride in in bike shorts with a chamois, but I've had to use my chamois cream to keep everything from getting worse. My family will arrive on Sunday, and they will bring me a resupply of biker butt grease.

Once I had pedals my mental state improved greatly. I love the independence and mobility that my bike gives me. Logistics become easy, movement becomes free and delightful.

I spent that first night at the Hyatt Place Frankfurt Airport, instead of in Miltonberg as I had intended. Surprisingly, it was quite a good time. I do like a chain hotel on the first night, blackout curtains, reliable generic bed, and dead quiet. I slept well. Good breakfast, and fun to watch all of the mid-level business types interacting in the bar in the evening and the breakfast room in the morning. So many in the breakfast room a bit sheepish, potentially about the bar last night?

I walked all over the airport area, shopped around in the airport in case I was going to buy clothes there the next day. The Porsche shop had great hats and shirts, and there was a Jack Wolfskin as well. With those two stores I could easily have passed for for a Stuttgart yuppie.

I was going to wait and see if my left bag could be recovered that day, but when I woke up in the morning it was like, hey dummy, you're in Germany. Mentally let go of the things that you have lost, ride your self to a big bike shop, get what you need, and get on the road.

That was definitely the right choice!

3

Some photos of the scruffier parts of greater Frankfurt one passes through when bike touring. Prettier stuff was soon to follow.

https://imgur.com/a/ieApbLa

Oh, Hank. Even a business class bed didn't prevent the morning head fog! Next time, if you have more than 1 carry-on item, have a reminder. Maybe 3 loose rubber bands on your wrist for the 3 bags. But then, will your fuzzy brain remember why your wearing them?

Glad you're making friends with your new stuff. Looking forward to more reports.

Yay! Hank is back. So sorry for your launch into your adventure minus your stuff. But have to say I was laughing reading it all and then laughing some more reading it aloud to my husband. Better luck and safe travels to come, I’m sure.

Ladies thanks very much for the supportive words. I am getting along just fine at this point, smooth sailing :)

4

A few photos from today and yesterday.

https://imgur.com/a/vVCVLQs

After the janky start, I very quickly started feeling my groove. I'm cycling the Main, Tauber, and (I think?) Altmuhl river trails. It occurs to me that this is an underused area by non-german tourists, maybe with the exception of the Romantic Road towns.

I'm in Rothenburg right now, drinking a little red wine, Tauberschwartz, a grape that only grows locally here, thought to be extinct until 1959. I'm a wine guy, and the wines of this region are fantastic, and almost completely unknown outside the area. My wine drinking though is not just informational; also a bit tactical. I'm waiting for the sun to get low before heading back outside, planning on a skin full before walking the ramparts as it gets dark. That should be lovely, to maybe even Henry Miller euphoric. Depending I guess on how much more wine I drink ;)

Once I got out of the grungy zones of Frankfurt, I saw a lot of beautiful things. The half-timbered towns in this corridor are remarkably charming. The rolling countryside, while perhaps at first glance subtle, quickly presses its imprint onto your heart.

In no particular order:

I fed apples to horses with beautiful manes They were shy at first. But once they realized I was tall enough to reach the fruit they couldn't we became fast friends.

Nearly all the bikes out here nowadays are electric and operated by German retirees. It's awesome to see older people enjoying this gorgeous area. One of the only other analog cyclist I saw today rolled up next to me and asked for directions in German. When she realized I was an American we pedalled together for maybe half an hour, and had a very Rick Steves sort of chat. She was almost my analog as a person - 50's, teacher, married to a busy and stressed out professional, kids close to the same age, same politics, cyclist, traveler, etc. She had dropped her mother off for post-surgery rehab in one of the little towns along the route, and was riding to Rothenburg for coffee and cake with her husband's brother's family.

One way she did differ from me was that she could ride a bike about twice as fast, was going to jam out about 40 mi each way just to kill time while her mom was doing rehab was doing rehab. Sehr sportlich!

My streak of chatting with people who are pretty much exactly like me, and having basically the same conversation, continuous. Can't complain I suppose, nice lady, nice of her to slow down for half an hour and ride with me.

In Miltonberg I stayed in a hotel which some claim has the oldest restaurant in Germany. Super nice, family owned. In my pictures you can see the hotel, the incredible room I stayed in, and the attic level breakfast room. WOW. The curtains didn't keep the light out very well, and pigeons cooed crazily in the airshaft, waking me up at 6am. But worth it.

Kind of in the middle of nowhere, came across an outpost sort of hotel and beergarden. They had maybe 20 teepees set up in some sort of cosplay Western setting. The teepees were inhabited by Germans dressed up like different figures from the mythic American West. Pretty cool, although the white dudes in exaggerated native American headdresses might have been operating a bit beyond their expiration date. The German fascination with the American West is interesting. I suppose I romanticize their country as well.

I keep planning to go out and get a proper meal sitting down somewhere. But hotel breakfast have been fantastic, and nice bakery sandwich lunches really good too. I think I'll likely end up sticking with doner kabob for dinner until my family shows up. I've traveled alone so many times, but I'm still a bit shy about dining alone.

Okay, light is getting low, ramparts await. Thanks for reading :)

Oh another thing, the photo of the Miltenberg fountain with the cherub showing his bottom - the local legend is that the sculptor figured out that he was not going to be paid in full before finishing, so he made the most public facing cherub point his backside at the town. Maybe not true, but a fun story, and a unique bit of sculpture.

And one more post script, when I say I'm eating my share of doner, don't picture on the sidewalk at 4am after the disco doner. The $10 "doner box" in the photo below is a more fair representation.

https://imgur.com/a/xpdES6R

Glad you’re rolling along. Nice to hear of your adventures.

As a glass half full guy, let me say: enjoy rolling with a lightened load. Though I am sure you’ll love being reunited with the rest of your stuff. Will look forward to more tales of half timbered lodgings, cycling past vineyards, historic sights and cycling with the rest of your family down the road.

If I could remember my imgur login I would be heart-ing all of those photos.

I laughed at the sign pointing to C&A -- this is my go-to solution for avoiding doing laundry.

You'd better make up for the doner kebab when the family arrives. I want to see photos of lavish mountain-raised animals and vegetables.

5

https://imgur.com/a/jxzWjfy

Evening walk around Rothenburg was good stuff. Wasn't crazy crowded here, not even in the middle of the day. And, predictably, a little walk from the center out by the wall virtually deserted.

Locals live in this city a bit more prominently than I expected - it's a tourist town, but it's also pretty strongly a town. Lots of beautiful scenes out on the edges of the town, where it seemed like more locals were hanging out.

It's 6:30am, and soon I will be off to somewhere. I think I'm going to skip the Altmuhl and try to get over to the Neckar River valley cycleway. Altmuhl heads directly away from Frankfurt where I need to pick up my people day after tomorrow. So Heidelberg or bust!

6

https://imgur.com/a/cbgtKwT

Today's ride was split, backtracking from Rothenburg down the Tauber river valley for 30 miles to catch a train to the Neckar river trail. Then 30 miles down that trail from Bad Friedeichshall to Eberbach.

I normally don't backtrack, but was more than happy to revisit the upper Tauber Valley from the opposite direction. It's an absolutely fantastic bike ride in all aspects, now in my top five long distance tracks in Europe. It's rated 5 out of 5 stars by the German agency that rates bike trails, and deserves 6 - so safe, so scenic, such good amenities along the way. Cycling Nirvana, happy to revisit. Would make a great walking holiday as well.

The section of the Neckar Trail I rode today, by contrast, was not so great. The entire trail is rated 4 stars. But this section felt like 2.5. The best part was the many castles along the way. Back in the day, the Neckar shake-down game must have been strong. But outside of that many dangerous highway crossings, short narrow highway sections, plain landscapes, annoying detours around private land, and you could starve to death for lack of amenities along the way.

The final 5 miles better though - the valley tightens and gets taller and less industrial, more natural. On the map it appears that it will hold as such through Heidelberg. Heidelberg is just a bit over 20 miles downstream, but there is over 1500ft of climbing in many sharp hills That maybe signals pretty country? Can't wait to see :)

Eberbach itself is a serviceable town. No real reason to visit, but a nice vibe with a mix of passing through tourists and locals enjoying a perfect weather Friday evening on the terraces and in the squares. Excellent Italian operated gelato shop, and beautiful, peaceful light glimmering on the river.

A bit of marginalia will likely follow, but for now I'll leave you with today's photo dump. Happy travels.

Avirose I'm happy to report that I ate a square meal, Cordon Bleu and a salad. Nice after a long day turning pedals.

My wife and I joke that we always go through the same process of breakfast evolution when we travel to Germany and Austria. First day eat everything on the buffet - hot foods, cold cuts, cheeses, breads, pastries, nutella, boiled eggs, smoked salmon, spreads, jams, juices, fruits, veggies, cakes etc etc. Nothing like a 2300 calorie breakfast when your system is frozen in place by jet lag. But there is also nothing like a very good breakfast in a German hotel.

https://imgur.com/a/XTCAJyA

The next day it's a little less.

Then the next day a little less.

By the fourth day, digestive system now running like a $20 motorcycle, I walk in to the breakfast room thinking "you will have muesli and yogurt and fruit and black coffee and that is all." I tried that today.

But the breads! My hotel in Rothenburg had a beautiful assortment of very high quality breads. I picked up each of the loaves and chose the heaviest. Incredible.

https://imgur.com/a/CwFLSXX

Butter of course, and it didn't seem right not to take some of the washed rind soft cheese with bits if peppers. But that was it. Except for Nuremberg bratwurst. I mean they're little. Or maybe it was two of them - who knows when I will be back to the region. And the jams were house made, so it would have been insulting not to have another slice of bread and try all four ...

Tomorrow is muesli, yogurt and fruit and black coffee and that's it! I mean it this time.

A plug for the hotel I stayed at in Rothenburg Hotel Sonne. Family owned and operated, friendly professional service, great breakfast, outstanding location, quiet. And it cost what felt like less than it should.

7a

I'm sitting at a restaurant terrace in Ladenburg, a big village northwest of Heidelberg I didn't know existed until I rolled into it. The run of perfect weather continues, a special sort of grace when you are outside all day traveling with no jacket or insulation, just two short sleeve shirts.

Ladenburg is a beautiful farm town, a cobbled maze of squares and half-timbered buildings. Beautiful church, carefully charming shopfronts. I'm under the deep shade of a mature chestnut tree, my cafe chair rocking on the cobbles in a pleasant cattywompus diagonal. A wedding party is festive in the square in front of a minor church. Two buskers, stand up bass and accordion, just started playing distinctly Parisian jazz.

The server just set in front of me a giant bbq burger and matchingly large radler (half beer half lemon soda).

This town is a stark contrast to Heidelberg, where I arrived, eyeballed the majors, put on some sunscreen, stink-eyed a thief casing my bike's gps unit, and beat it with haste. It was THRONGING with visitors, half of them mindlessly zigzagging as they walk in the crowd, like tops losing momentum. There is literally nothing to me worth hanging around for in Heidelberg. If every day of a Europe trip was some version of a summer Saturday in Heidelberg, I'd rather stay home. No idea how or why people do that to themselves.

The 12 mile ride out of Heidelberg to Ladenburg worked like a decompression chamber, quiet lanes through small farm country, pungent dung smells purging the scents of middling bakeries and bus tour sweat.

There are tourists here too, but far fewer, and they are calmer. Well, one Canadian guy with a very loud, frank, crisp and lightly nadal Canadian man voice, broadcasting a running mansplain of various subjects to his highschool age daughter. If he was a muppet the mouth would open so wide the face would disappear. Americans so often don't realize how loud we are!

But mercifully, the French couple at the table between us engaged him in conversation in French, and his voice magically turned pleasant and soft. So interesting how he had a totally different voice in his fluent French.
Disproportion of French in this town btw; they certainly know how to travel.

I thought I would stay in Heidelberg today. But the elevation gain on the official Neckar trail GPX track was way over, and so I arrived early. Skimming Google maps pictures Oppenheim looked cool, so I instructed Copilot AI to plot a GPX route on well travel but low traffic road. So far so good - I'm my current route plotter but AI might put me out of a job.

The route will make for a 115km day. Long enough, but not too hilly, and it passes through the center of Worms so I'm happy, nothing else to do today but ride a bike in the sunshine.

Although it does occur to me I haven't yet booked a hotel. Better at least check if a room is available.

Until later then!

7b

Well AI betrayed me. It's route to "Oppenheim" stopped 10 miles short. Man was I already tired at thst point. I was so excited about AI and then it tried to kill me - print that on the human race's tombstone.

Oppenheim had a pretty church but the town was a bit plain. I was expecting better, as the other flatland wine villages between Worms and Oppenheim where pretty nice, looked a bit like the less remarkable villages in Burgundy, similar architecture. It was a nice transition cycling along a deeply forested river, to barley and cows, to vineyards. Lot of agricultural diversity in a day of self-powered travel.

And speaking of flatland, someone bombed Worms pretty much flat. Couple of impressive churches perk up the skyline, but in total it definitely looks good from far but far from good. Let's go ahead and assign the bombing to the British. Seems plausible, and then I'm not tangentially responsible for a lot of ugly buildings.

Anyway, no rooms in Oppenheim, so I had to ride couple more miles to Nierstein, which to my eye looks like the first legitimate middle Rhine wine town as the river flows northwest. All the wine towns upstream from Nierstein are flat and back from the river. Nierstien is backed by a hill and right on the river. There was one dock in town, branded Viking, and thankfully empty. Cute mainstreet lined with weinstube. Good food of course, happy locals. German do certainly relish good weather evenings.

180km today on the bike. Definitely more than intended. But tomorrow I ride only 30 miles down the Rhine and up the Main to reclaim my girls at Frankfurt airport. As such, the next missive might be delayed - family first of course :).

Thanks for reading. Not many pictures today, too much ground to cover and you certainly already know what Heidelberg looks like. But I do want to write about a big bully on the train yesterday, so will check back in with that story soon.

https://imgur.com/a/IaChFLn

Of marginal note, it strikes me how little I care about all of the careful planning and packing before the trip. It seemed important to plan and have all the right stuff. but now that I'm here I truly could not GAF.

Loved every word of this! Thanks for taking the time to do it and that Best Western dinner looks amazing. We’re currently at a Best Western in DuPont and they need to up their game! Happy travels with the family.

Thanks Patty! Pierce County is not quite the Rhineland, eh? Maybe one day ;)

The Train Bully, part 1

Okay, the train bully story. Many scattered thoughts but I'll start with facts and then move towards feelings.

On a train that originated in Aschaffenberg and terminates in Stuttgart. At a Taubertal station I get on. The bicycle area has flipped down seats along the train's walls. I lean my bike against the wall and go to strap it to the wall with the provided strap, but the strap is broken. No big deal I think, and I sit down on the flip down seat next to my bike so I can hold on to the tire and it stays upright. My bike is top heavy with loading for travel so it tips over quite easily.

Two stops down the line a few people enter with bikes. The first cyclist heads towards me, a fat stocky barrel chested country looking man. When he stops in front of me I know that he wants me to get up so he can put his ebike in the a spot where I'm sitting. Fair enough. But my bike is going to fall over if it's not held and I don't want to have to stand next to it the whole time.

I don't have the language ability or time to explain, but I am holding my bike's wheel and I hope the guy gets what's up. As he signals for me to move, I point to his bike and say to him in English slowly and clearly "is here okay?" Pointing again to a space leaning up against my bike. Then I can sit there and hold both bikes, there's a seat for him next to me. Maybe we will be pals.

Very loudly he declines and lets me know that by the rules of the train his bike has precedence over my body in that area. Fair enough, rules are rules and that's fine. I stand up. Another passenger who was boarding with a bike leans his bike against mine and using a strap that he brought with him secures his bike, which secures my bike. Problem solved, I head to a different seat nearby.

But in the meanwhile the first guy has been loudly diatribing. I don't speak German, only have a few phrases, so I'm not getting all of it. But I do understand a bit of German - it's not a difficult language to understand and I have familiarity with hearing it as a child from family elders. So I'm getting some of it.

His voice is doing a sort of German performative anger where it lowers to a bellowy growl and then it times raises to a tight but clear high pitch coming from the top of the throat.

We speak German in Germany, not English. When the English are in Germany, they should speak German. Train is for Deutschland, etc. I picked up on some of those kinds of things.

After he was finished, he intermittently loudly chatted with a woman next to him. She looked like a very normal German woman, but she seemed quite pleased to make pleasantries and engage. The female soldier he sat down next to occasionally chirped in.

Having been the target of an impromptu right-wing dressing down, I didn't catch a sympathetic look from anyone on that train. Most people scrupulously looked away, but some fairly large number fixed me occasionally with that distinctively German glare. This second group of people, it struck me, could not really be visually differentiated from the first. Not to me anyway - they all just looked like regular Germans to my foreigner's eye.

When I was exiting the train, a final weird thing happened. The guy who leaned his bike up against mine, garden variety middle-aged German guy who would have looked very natural in Birkenstocks, refused to come down from his seat and move his bike off of mine. I said in the best German I could, excuse me, my bicycle. He just sort of glared at me. So I did a weird juggling act looking uncomfortable and foolish. Trying to move his bicycle and my loaded bicycle around the train car while people were also trying to assemble to get out. It really sucked in that moment to be sticking out like even more of a sore thumb, catching a little quick dressing down from some b-word who was also trying to exit the train.

The Train Bully, part 2

Now to the feelings I suppose. This incident caused in me a rush of adrenaline and cortisol. And now I'm in a closed space 15 ft away from this guy for the next half hour. I really really wanted to respond to him. But not to argue. When I'm angry and afraid my psychology settles on violence. My mind kind of slows down and becomes coldly tactical.

He was a big man, maybe 5'10, probably 260 lb, that kind of German rural stock that's built for strongman competitions. But he was soft. Even though he had a big body and I'm sure was very strong, pretty clear this guy had not been picking up anything heavier than a half-liter stein for the last 20 years. He was younger than me, maybe in his late '40s whereas I am in the later part of my mid-50s. He sported a stringy walrus mustache, which made me think that he looked like said sea creature had mated with a particularly ugly potato.

He didn't look at me as he sat there. But if he did I would not have avoided his eye. He's a bully, performing my humiliation to a forced audience, too busy with that to realize I'm carefully scanning him for weaknesses. Small jaw, zero cardio.

Still I would probably lose, he's a younger stronger looking man. But I would so much rather lose a fight than sit there and eat my anger and feel all the bad chemicals bubbling around in my brain. There's closure and release and getting beat up.

I start thinking about how can I bait him into starting at me with a physical intention, without tipping him off that I might be an actual problem.

But even though I very much want to escalate the conflict this jerk started, at my age, finally I know better. I know I'm going to have to eat a bunch of bad feelings, and that they will perseverate and process over a day or so. I am not an off the duck's back person; it's easy to say, but that's just not my psychological setup. I wish it was, seems nice to be like, whatever, that guy's an ***hole, now I'm moving along.

But stewing a bit is better than the alternative. I mean it's a train - beat up, get beat up, draw, get stabbed, whatever the outcome there's nowhere to go. I'm sure German jail is no fun.

I think a therapist would tell me that my thought should be pride at having done everything right. I was forced into volatile and somewhat scary situation, and I made all the right choices. Great job Hank, two thumbs up. So I'm going to go with that, even though it's not natural to me. Or try anyway.

So that's my train bully story. I think it was a good reminder that when on vacation one is still moving around in the real world, and ought to remember that, not be caught too off guard. Travel is bliss, but you have to be careful about gliding around too much on a cloud.

I pick up my family later this morning, and we head up into the mountains which I am certain will be delightful. All in all, this is a great place and I've really loved being here, and I look forward to much more.

I appreciate your candid recognition about not being a water off the duck's back person.

That specific phrase came up during a water cooler chat some years ago when the vice chancellor's on-leave aide's assistant was out for a sick day or three (early in a pregnancy) and I had to step in and take the desk outside the big office. When she was back, I said to her that I didn't know how you (both) could put up with his horsehockey. I was constantly on the verge of walking out of the building, at best.

She said it was easy -- 'he's not my spouse or parent or child. Whatever he says doesn't matter to me. Water off a duck's back.' It was an elegantly simple tactic. Luckily I haven't had too many occasions to employ it as I've moved up in the bureaucratic world.

Anyhoo, please do post more food / dining pics and stories as the trip continues !

Will do. So much nice food, but it feels kind of hacky to post food photos. But I like food, and I like food photos, so happy to comply.

8

In lovely Tannheimtal now. Rode an uneventful if scruffy and short feeling two hour ride to Frankfurt airport. Spent a full hour at the Sixt counter being hustled in every possible way by an agent and floor manager for a bigger sale. I had time to kill anyway so was able to stick with friendly persistent and finally they complied with my reservation. Freshly off the plane my family showed up just as they turned over the keys.

3.5 hours drive to Tannheim. The Autobahn isn't what it used to be. It's less orderly and slower drivers squat in the passing lane quite regularly. I'm sorry to see the mechanically efficient ballet is no longer quite so synchronized.

Tannheim and Tannheimtal are absolutely tops. A cute, friendly, very real Tyrolean town with both working agriculture and well developed recreational infrastructure. This is our third visit, and although a German hiking magazine has ranked Tannheim as the best place for a wander vacation in the Alps, we've still only once heard native English voices other than our own.

Seven or eight years ago I found our way to Tannheimtal via Google earth. I had been searching travel media for a place in Tirol with lifts but not a ski town feel, small and self sustaining beyond tourism, lots of green fields and much pedestrian and bicycle infrastructure. No luck with normal sources, so like a majestic cyber-eagle I scanned from above. Bingo.

I used to keep Tannheimtal secret for fear it would end up overrun. It's only a 30 minute drive or 40 minute bus from Fussen. But now I realize that it doesn't matter, nobody's coming, shout it from the beautiful mountaintops.

Checked into a classic family owned chalet, cleaned up, dinner downstairs. Around the table a big Tirolean style salad with grilled chicken, pasta aglio e olio, kasespatzle, and a schnitzel. All delicious.

Walked over the local eis salon eisdirndl (closed as expected on Sunday night, and how cute is that name?) to visit their vending machine, stocked fully of kleine und grosse tub of fantastic house-made ice cream, each tub internally sealed with clinical perfection, little spoon under the lid.

Then walked a few village paths in the gloaming evening, girls tired but elated to be here. Nice.

https://imgur.com/a/x9xt0p1

Enjoy your family time ! That sounds like a lovely way to start off.

I also had a train bully yesterday - in the RER heading back into town from CDG airport. Mine didn't get as bad as yours, but I had to start repeatedly yelling NE TOUCHEZ PAS MA VALISE until my aggressor decided it wasn't worth it and left and changed cars.

Jeez Kim that's 100% no fun. Glad you stood up for yourself and he backed down. Stay safe out there.

I mentioned that my final ride on the first (of three!) bike tours on this trip was a bit scruffy as far as scenery goes. True enough, but I will hedge a little by saying there are surprising pops of scenery here and there among the industrial and exurban wastelands, the endlessly recurring highway pedestrian under and overpasses.

https://imgur.com/a/TKsh1Gz

9

https://imgur.com/a/VXmUsK0

The ladies decompressed on their first day with an 11 mile alpine hike, including an ill-advised cow path shortcut that led to a few slips and a tear or two about now not so white sneakers that were repeatedly advised against. Teenage gonna teenage. They ate a well-earned late lunch back down at the Vilalpsee; I heard that spinach knodel was involved.

I though conquered a different sort of mountain, the complex of outdoor clothing outlet malls down in Fussen. You see my left bag apparently is in the wind, and after a rude and schadenfreude laced first encounter, the responsible Condor agent has been email ghosting me since day one. Crickets, and all other Condor contact points could not help and repeatedly refused to connect me with a higher up

So still in bed in the morning I hunted up the email addresses of Condor's CEO and COO, quickly explained the situation, and then mentioned that my wife has a particular set of skills (yep, my bag was Taken ;). Quick link to her belt notches and all the zeroes. I've never done this sort of thing before, but I suspected I was being punished and I just want my stuff back.

Drove down to the outdoor outlet mall and it was crazytown packed with middle class german families. Weather a bit drippy that morning so apparently we all had the same alt itinerary idea. No school so Das Munchkins going berserk in the massive courtyard play area. The mall supplied an impressive array of wheeled vehicles and sketchy obstacles on which gleefully un-helmeted children could get rad, and occasionally a little bloody. Got to love Europe :)

After 90 not so fun minutes of sifting, I struck out trying to find a raincoat. Needed to replace my missing Gorewear cycle jacket with something, but 99% not right and the 1% the wrong size.

So I thought I'd drive into the city center of Fussen to visit a large Sport 2000 store. Before I was even at the inner ring the traffic was unbearable, and parking was too confusing to sort out while driving bumper to bumper.

I aborted for a more outlying outdoor store. This one was serious about BC skiing and mountain sports. A few appropriate coats. I steeled myself to cough up $400. But again not a fit.

Back at the car I checked my email. Good news, my bag has been found, said the suddenly cheerfully professional agent. Name and phone number of agent's managing director now added to email signature. It's a miracle! Of the type when the COO calls your boss.

Not fully out of the woods yet but shipping is being arranged.

Still some drippy in the forecast, so back to outlet mall to secure a cheap raincoat for hiking. But this time opposite problem, everything more than I'd spend to use once or twice. So f- it, I'll just get wet.

Back to Tannheimtal after 4 hours I'll never get back. But by the time I was ready to get outside it had cleared up and was beautiful.

One neat feature of Tannheimtal is that although it offers legitimate mountain hiking trails and mountaineering, it's also an outstanding place to walk small roads and gravel tracks. So I did a six mile loop, up one side of the valley a couple hundred vertical feet and the along to the next town, repeat back from the other side. Glorious views, calm cows, goats, horses, and one friendly fat pony. Occasional grus gott-ings from a passing locals. Nice afternoon :)

One thing I love about the Alps in general, and the Austrian Alps narrowly, and Tirol specifically:

The little details.

Yes, there is beautiful mountain and valley scenery that powerfully draws your "far eye."

But there are so many small, close-up things that are delightful to see as well. Even out in the countryside. You can for instance ride a bike all day here in socked-in drizzle, and still be happily visually stimulated by the closer details. The majesty of broader vistas can make the little things go unnoticed, but keeping your "close eye" open as well pays off.

I've posted some sweeping views; will now try to post some photos of cute littler things.

Photos in #9 are spectacular.

Thanks four sharing your process with Condor. It’s on our radar as a future flight option as friends liked them out of SEA, but the lack of access to staff makes us hesitant. We don’t always have enough days planned in the initial location for baggage to catch up.

I am glad it seems you will now get your bag back but sorry it has taken so much effort to try to wrest it from them.

Now, this:

including an ill-advised cow path shortcut that led to a few slips and a tear or two about now not so white sneakers that were repeatedly advised against. Teenage gonna teenage.

made me laugh !!!!

I really like what you said about the small views that are as wonderful in some ways as the grand vistas. Really beautifully written.

Tannheim's village church, Pfarrkirche St. Nikolaus, is not much decorated on the outside. The interior though runs over with alpine accented Baroque splendor. And not one but two fancily dressed skeletons.

One interesting stained glass window from 1946 breaks with the 17th century Baroque. It's themed Madonna of the Protection. Lots of Mary worship in this valley!

Classic Tirolean graveyard fill the grounds too.

https://imgur.com/a/AKpEpgr

10

Yesterday wa a transition day from Tannheim by car: Ludwig castles, Oberamergau Baroque church, Ulm overnight. An okay day for a transfer day.

https://imgur.com/a/LCAIMEq

Right now on a train to Koln. It's zipping along at 0 km/h

Deutsches Bahn is such a mess. At 09:00 already cancelations, too late for connections, train at a dead stop where it isn't supposed to stop. 09:00. And then it accordions into chaos by the afternoon. Bummer - used to be so good.

In Mannheim we had to trot across the platform for a departure leaving the same minute we arrived. We arrived at one end of our departing train, bicycle car at other end. The girls could get on but I couldn't. Conductor told me to ride down the platform, fast. Long way, long train. Conductors intermediate on my journey waving me through.

Can you imagine? This is what DB has descended to.

Just got an app update that we will now be 45 minutes late to Koln, parked for the past 30 minutes at Frankfurt Airport. Next train departing from the same track, so hopefully we clog their passage and can make the switch. It will be a hungry journey - was counting on that 45 minutes to grab a sandwich.

I suppose there are worse fates than arriving in Brussels famished ....

Hank, I’m so enjoying your posts and marvelous photos. We were lucky to live for 4 years in Germany courtesy of the USAF and Uncle Sam many years ago and all your photos are making me ‘homesick’.

Good luck in Belgium. It is sad to hear again about how the DB railways have fallen. Sigh.

One less meal in Germany? Score!

Edited to add: That must be the creepiest pieta I have ever seen. And I bet the fig leaves were later additions.

11

Made it to Brussels an hour late and too much stress. So many delays and cancellations by lunchtime that the trains become chaos. Jilted passengers smash into whatever trains are available w/o seat reservations. Without explanation our train terminated an unscheduled station early. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

Deutsches Bahn is a white hot s*** show.

Got on bikes in the late afternoon and the four of us started riding toward Aalst. Brussels is a scruffy little b**** of a city, lively and chaotic, sometimes charmingly. It was a bit nerve wracking to put my family on bikes and immediately ride 4 miles across the urban core. Baptism by fire (and speeding avenue, jammed pedestrian zones, eyeballing ghettos, pee stinky tunnels, etc). You do really see a city when you ride completely across it on bicycles, different experience than exploring the core by foot and public transit.

It was a release to be released into the suburbs, and then the countryside.

Made it 25 miles to Aalst by 6pm. Staying at the absolutely lovely Georges and Madeline aparthotel, a small family operation. It's fab, 10 out of 10 stars. Highly recommend.

Not that you are going to Aalst. It's another town my family loves that English speaking tourist don't seem to attend. Not all the buildings are beautiful like a place like Delft, but it has its share. It's got a huge assortment of restaurants, cafes and other amenities, far more than a town its alone size might support. Likely serves as a commercial hub for some radius surrounding as well.

The people of Aalst are pretty great. It's my understanding that in Belgium they have the reputation of being a bit country clod, conservative and closed-minded. They also have a reputation of being the apex of Dutch-Flemish direct, and it does seem to hold some truth that in general Aalsters are well practiced in this spectrum-ish cultural tendency. They are also generally very nice, and both interested in us and fiercely proud of their awesome little city. I'm sure there are plenty of exceptions, but to my eye, this city operates with a higher level of integration of more recent immigrant groups than a lot of other places in the low countries. Everybody seems to be a bit more mixed together everywhere, and the flow seems harmonious. I'm sure that there are issues, but Aalst, maybe contrary to reputation, seems fairly successful in this regard.

I don't have a lot of photos, tired and hanging with family. But a few below.

https://imgur.com/a/CkRI8X3

Today we ride 27 meandering miles along the Flemish knooppunt cycle network to a hotel on the end of a tram line to Ghent. We're staying a little bit outside of Ghent because the third largest city festival in Europe just started there yesterday. Hotels in town are booked out or very pricey, and we've heard that the Gentse Feesten, mostly a music festival, is pretty dominant at all hours. So we're hoping for our cake and eating it too by staying a bit outside and using public transit to dip into what we've heard is one of the best city festivals in the world. We shall see :)

Lyndash cool that you got to live overseas with the Air Force, and, of course, thank you for your service :)

Avi food-wise we did pretty well in Germany, were able to eat all of our favorites. But yeah, nice to be out before meals get too heavy amd repetitive.

12

https://imgur.com/a/MbO99in sound on for videos - city was buzzing

Pleasant 26 mile family ride from Aalst to majestic Ghent. Stopped for lunch at a gas station with a Subway-ish sandwich counter. Fantastic - the bread was great, ingredients fresh, crisp and high quality. 6 euros per filling sandwich. Belgium makes great broodjes, wish the US could match.

Staying at a Holiday Inn out at the Ghent Expo center. It's a cruddy generic hotel, and fully under renovation without notice. Completely wrapped in sheeted scaffolding, windows filmed and paint splattered all over, so our view of the Ikea is spoiled :)-

But it is right on a tram line which jostled us right into the city center no problem. Hotel rooms in the center were nearly sold out, and those left really expensive, and the Ghent Festival party bumps all night. Quiet out at the Holiday Inn.

Ghent and its namesake city festival were amazing for an 80 degree afternoon and evening. I am not a crowd person, but the vibe was so fun and convivial that I most enjoyed the most densely packed streets. Music everywhere, people partying, dancing, eating ice cream, strolling the sights. We let ourselves get swept away with it all. So much fun!

Interestingly, restaurants were busy but manageable. Every terrace seemed to have a couple open tablea among the pots of mussels. We ate pasta for dinner at request of the teens. My wife carefully sifted restaurants as she enjoyed a Campari spritz canal-side at the tony old fish market bar. Landed on a place that ended up being full of mostly young women, maybe 16 to 25 years old. Nice pasta, nice service, great value. Our in tow teens, curiously, were not particularly stoked that we found their demographic. And, to be truthful, not really too interested in the festival vibe. Kids today are weird.

But the parents thought it all great fun, an already wonderful city exploding with music and joy. And we really like Belgians too - easy people to chat up, quick to smile, like a joke - big contrast to Germans frowny squirming at the proposition of 30 seconds of small talk. I think on average Belgians have been a bit warmer than the Dutch too, more open and a smaller proportion with a high nosed attitude. All on average of course, many cool people everywhere. But if you are in the market for reliable feel good Interaction with locals, Belgium has quite nice folks with whom we are so far vibing really well.

Today we leave the Ghent area to ride to Bruges for a couple of nights. Medieval times here we come!

Hank, sounds like Ghent knows how to throw a party. Thanks for letting us ride along with you.

Glad to have you Jean :)

Like Ghent, Bruges is festive! Free concert in the Market Square, opening act "Bruges Swan Patrol," classic through 90's covers. Good fun! Surreal rocking out with a crowd of locals and tourists in such a beautiful setting.

https://imgur.com/a/ixUQmMi

Many different little ideas are pinging around my brain right now. So in lieu of the regular touristing report a few quick hitters.

I finally got the stuff I left on Condor back. Cost $85 shipping but worth it. But will say that outside of my Goretex shell, I qas doing just fine with the kit I patched together. Good lesson in flexibility and not sweating the planning details too much, you will survive and likely thrive regardless.

The Ghent vs Bruges debate, like the Wengen vs Murren debate, is silly. Both Bruges and Ghent are fantastic places to stay. People who avoid Bruges because it's too touristed just don't know how to enjoy a busy place. We are staying at Hotel Ter Brughe, just outside the inner commercial district, and it's quiet an calm all the time. 2/3's of Bruges seems to feel very little tourist impact, and all of Bruges is beautiful. It's probably this city's biggest blessing that the beauty is universal - so much charm spread over such a large area. If you aren't feeling some peace and elbow room, you are Bruges-ing wrong.

And Ghent is also just terrific. The question is really do you want a small city or big town? Can't miss either way.

The newish trend of European "tacos" is weird. Doner shop and or chicken nugget sorts of fillings sauced with (maybe?) Velveeta wrapped in a flatbread square and panini pressed? It wasn't bad, but it did have a sort of Taco Bell vibe - how can we reconfigure mostly our existing ingredients into something we can call new and different?

Won't do it again, but it was interesting.

https://imgur.com/a/OvzqZlN

Tonight in the Bruges Market Square, in honor of today's Belgian National Day, is yet another free concert - Bruges Sings.

Three nights festivaling in a row might be beyond my old man limits. Still thought, the Black Eyed Peas Tonight's Gonna Be A Good Night seems like a fun song to belt out with a couple thousand Belgians. Such a dumb song with ridiculous lyrics. It's the third song on the sing along schedule, and then Belgian language stuff for a while after that, so maybe do that and then back to hotel. I like the when they say Mazel Tov in that song, such a weird choice of lyric, would be fun to shout it out en masse.

We shall see.

Sitting at a cafe is an odd process for me. I always feel awkward approaching a cafe - all the people sitting there look so comfortable and like they belong. Sheepishly I edge my way in, usually trip on a chair or such. But once I'm sitting and have ordered I become one of the crowd. I see people approaching the cafe just like I did, and then also transform into part of the fabric. Trying to invent and word for this process ... Cafemorphosis?

Hotel Ter Brughe is a dang nice hotel if you like an old building made comfortable. Worst you can say is that no standing shower in our rooms - tub and hand held shower head.

Quite the contrast to the Holiday Inn Gent Expo, which was a construction nightmare full of Russians smoking 6 inches outside the front door. You could smell the cigarettes all the way up in our room.

Check out the photos! Contrast is huge.

https://imgur.com/a/XVJjquU

I've read posts on RS Forum lately in which people attest to never using cash on a Europe trip, only cards or phone.

This trip though we've used cash often, and without alternative.

Hmmm. Not sure how those two experience square. Maybe smaller places with less tourist traffic haven't gone full digital yet? Not sure.

I finally got the stuff I left on Condor back.

Yeehoo !! Good grief that took what two weeks ??!! I am so sorry but glad you finally have it back.

Also - here is a New Yorker article on those mysterious French "tacos"

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/04/19/the-unlikely-rise-of-the-french-tacos

That article was fantastic Kim, thanks very much for posting it.

French Tacos, quite the cultural experience I had for lunch!

https://imgur.com/a/GtKZjE0

Bruges photos, not much else to say, did most of the Bruges stuff, walking 17 miles in two days. Off to the Netherlands today, riding Along the canal that so famously connected Bruges to the sea before silting up. Tailwind in the fair weather forecast.

I hope this style of trip reporting catches on among more of the forum regulars, Hank.

Your 'spectrum'-y observation was as poignant as any dart that I have thrown here in several years. Huzzah!

Gotta love the Netherlands outside of Amsterdam

https://imgur.com/a/9B6OtFK

The Dutch love them some sprinkles! It's funny seeing a 6'5" 50 year old man strolling a shopping district with an ice cream cone completely encrusted in rainbow of tiny and candies. And how could one eat a piece of toast without them? Busiest aisle in the Albert Heijn.

https://imgur.com/a/Y5QNE9u

Middelburg is a good town, made for a interesting stopover. It's got all the Dutch stuff, but less intense. Lots of cute residential streets, good seafood, solid tourist infrastructure. A beautiful restored abbey that was bombed nearly flat in World War II. Big square lined with cafes, good looking town hall. Bikes are all over, and locking is fairly casual. It's another place on this trip that doesn't attract many English speaking tourists. Mostly Germans and French for foreign tourists according to the cafe waitress with whom I chatted.

I chat with people a lot now, servers and clerks and sometimes randoms, ask them a few questions about themselves and their town. I am truly becoming an old man at this point. My wife says that I am on a goodwill tour, introducing myself as American and then being very nice to and very interested in people. Yep, hitting the grandpa stage.

A lot of the young women from here have a similar local ethnic look. Apple-faced blondes with just a little dirty streaking, and something a little similar around the eyes to differentiate them from their countrywomen who don't hail from this peninsula. Like Aalsters the people here in Middleburg are proud of their town. Population density out here is much lower than most of the rest of the Netherlands, so you feel some space and more air, which is constantly blowing with some gusto off of the cold sea.

I like it! Glad I came back here with family.

We booked an Airbnb, and the girls volunteered to cook rigatoni with vodka sauce. They did a great job, but I'm not sure how much of the effort was just to secure some vodka. Which the grocery store did not have. So pasta water it was. It's nice to have a bit of time in a house, cook for yourself, do your laundry, reset for a couple more hotel nights and meals out. Hopefully the teens are mentally refreshed when they wake up this morning.

Today we'll take a train to clip some distance off of our ride to Antwerp. Towards the end of the ride, what I believe is the longest bicycle specific tunnel in the world will shuttle us under the Schelde river. Good fun!

https://imgur.com/a/vSDCev7

Very interesting ride to Antwerp. First 20 miles beautiful rural riding along the Schelde delta. The color palate was a beautiful muted mix of grays, sea grass, heather, slate, deep cranberry, and accent pops of near chartreuse green. My camera couldn't catch the colors exactly, but it would make an amazing interior design palate. Very pretty and calm riding.

And then 15 miles of heavy industrial area and port area. Huge trucks, factories, container yards, a nuclear looking plant, busy barge traffic, locks, man made islands, endless construction and route detours, noise. Interesting for sure, and safe enough bikeway infrastructure lacing through it all. But the massive machine aspect of it all scared the teen girls a little.

Plus, as soon as we hit the industry proper, the nice day suddenly rained hard and didn't stop until Antwerp city limit.

A couple uneventful miles through Antwerp and we were at our hotel. Chose to order some frites and dry out on a patio for half an hour before presenting ourselves to the desk of the hotel.

Definitely a memorable day of riding, good stuff :)

https://imgur.com/a/kRaDRTu

Hank, I can understand why you like the Tannheimer Tal. I've stayed at the hotel 'liebes Rot-Flüh' several times. It's always been lovely.

Mignon that's a really nice hotel. I like German health resorts hotels too. But I tend not to book them because of the price and because they aren't great for traveling with kids. But some day for sure.

We stayed at Gasthof Enzian. Fronted by a woman, Melanie, extraordinarily nice. Husband the chef. Melanie liked us because she has relatives in the Seattle area and was stoked to see Americans. In her gasthof.

In our five days in Tannheimtal, we heard no native English speaking voices. Which in total makes 17 days there and only once hearing native English speaking voices besides our own, an Australian couple. Aussies certainly get around :)

Enjoying the photos! Do you have some HDR setting tricks to get the skies so rich while keeping the fields looking nice too?

Hank, I was able to look at your photos at home. Truly fantastic. I love the little details you see. Exactly my cup of tea.

Avirose I really like my phone, Pixel 9a, but the camera bugs me. I've read that Pixel moved towards a more natural looking photo a generation or two back. This doesn't bother me. But I've also read that there was a production run of pixel 9a's with sensors that read a little dark. I think mine is included in that.

Even when I'm framing a photo, I can see that I want another 1/3 to 1/2 stop of exposure. But I can't fiddle with it every time. So I need to do post-production on nearly every photo.

I use one of two presets usually. Enhance is good for making outdoor scenes closer to what I see with my eye. And dynamic adds some pretty large amount of HDR, sharpness etc.

One issue these presets is that both can often "choose" to make skies much bluer than they were. It's not necessarily a bad effect, but often not what I'm going for.

My wife and daughter have fairly recent iPhones. Compared to my phone which I do think has one of the problem sensors, their phones automatically make photos seem optimized for social media, bright, full of pastel colors, skin smoothing etc. Great to look at on a phone on Instagram etc, but significantly more fake looking than the Pixel.

All in all I'd take the iPhone camera - I'm not using the photos for anything but looking at on screens, so may as well have images that pre-zhuzhed.

Continuing the French Tacos exploration, we tried to lunch at O'Tacos, largest fast food brand for French Tacos.

https://imgur.com/a/MGIGI2x

ABSOLUTELY REPULSIVE. O'Tacos makes Taco Bell seem like the French Laundry. Threw it away and purified ourselves with beautiful patisserie.

Hahahhahaaha yes there is an O'Tacos just a couple of hundred meters from our apartment. Luckily it is just beyond where I go to and from the metro, so most of the time I don't even have to lay eyes on it.

13

Sorry for not checking in for a few days! Family time on this trip is drawing to a close - ladies fly home tomorrow - and it's been busy vacation time.

London seems a popular choice:

https://imgur.com/a/PCNj07u

Antwerp and London have been good. Neither is my favorite city to visit for a variety of reasons, but on vacation never too much of a problem, can't complain.

Still, in a world of limited time and resources, in the future I will likely point my opportunity costs elsewhere.

Antwerp to me has the Portland Oregon problem. It's big enough that it has big city gritty elements, in which case you may as well go to a bigger city with more of the benefits of a big city. I'd rather go to Amsterdam for instance. Part of this probably is because Antwerp doesn't necessarily have the things that I value. You can match the public architecture pretty easily elsewhere, and the local culture is a bit more stroll around in nicer clothes than I prefer to travel with. Not a great city for parks or to get out to the immediate outskirts. And because it's a huge port as the dominant identity of the place, it projects some of the bruskness that industrial cities tend towards. To me it holds nothing over Ghent for instance, which to me is a more fun and comfortable place to visit.

London is overpopulated with donkeys. Donkey from Hawaiian surfer slang, meaning kook, Barney, jackass, etc. Annoyingly un-self-aware dorks of one stripe or another, locals, transplants, and tourists alike. And perhaps I too am just another donkey donking up London, but this is a donkey town.

I like Paris, I like New York, I like Berlin, I love Tokyo. But London doesn't catch me as being as special as those places, or not enough anyway to tolerate the endless donkey parade in the crowded streets. It's been a long time since I've been here, and in that time it feels as if the British population of the city has probably dropped by half. We are not in a particularly touristy neighborhood, but it is still positively overflowing with American expats. I understand that this is a highly international world city, but It feels to me like it is generically so, and the British things about it are almost a sort of nostalgic window dressing at this point. So much of this city seems like an international lowest common denominator that one might rename it Pret A Manger and no one would notice.

I would never ever want to live here. There's an enormous amount of wealth, but the wealthy people are doing exactly with their wealth what I am not interested in doing with my wealth. Endless luxury cars, fancy watches, lifestyle posing. In a busy hyper-urban center where people seem to consume as their major activity. Sighting London-stylish actual locals is like birding for some rare species among flocks of Rolexed seagulls.

I've never been in a city that is so tryhard as far as fashion goes, with so many absolute flops. I'm miles from being a fashionista, but about 10% of the people here who make an effort to be fashionable are passing as such. The other 90% just look mildly ridiculous. Polar opposite of Paris in this regard.

Finance bros and their bro-ettes everywhere, entire massive neighborhoods feel like a Cornell University reunion.

Massively massively over-touristed. This is the first place in a very long time that I've visited that has been crushing with lowest common denominator tourism. It's thoughtful that nearly all museums are free, but it also sucks because they are absolutely mobbed. I guarantee that if museums charged even 2 pounds for admission the crowd would drop by 2/3's. I'd pay 20 to be able to turn around in the National Gallery.

Anyway, we are definitely having fun, and I'm happy to be here. But I don't heart London. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough in the right places with the right squint. But there she is.

Let me also say that I am very much looking forward to my week of solo bicycle exploration of some parts of England outside of London. Should be great.

This morning I've been lightly torturing my family by finding excuses to say "British Museum" like Billy Holiday in Foggy Day in London Town: slurring British, then discordantly sing-song, weirdly-accented museum.

Dad stop.

But that's how they pronounce it here.

I think they're probably about ready to go home :) :)

Hank, what you write about London is interesting. I feel the same way as you in some respects :-) But I do like the photo opportunities London offers when it comes to architecture. Still, no reason to go back anytime soon. But it's interesting that you see Berlin differently. I don't like many things about Berlin that I don't like about London either.

Glad to see you back.

Thanks for your take on Antwerp. It's sorta been somewhere on my list for a while, but maybe I'll drop it down a few notches.

Sorry London doesn't do it for you. I was there for a week in March. I guess the stars were aligned, because I had the best time ever. Truly surprised myself ! First time in all my trips that the city vibe worked for me. It probably helped that the weather was beautiful, so I spent more time taking walks and exploring neighborhoods and parks than inside crowded museums.

Looking forward your next installment.

Sounds like you only saw a very small slice of London Hank. I'm guessing your "not particularly touristy neighbourhood" was in west London, probably in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. I can't relate to the super rich either, neither do I aspire to be one of them. West London is where they tend to congregate. West London is where American immigrants tend to head for too.

I'm not sure what you mean by "the British population of the city has probably dropped by half." Do you assess if people are British by the colour of their skin? Do you have another means of determining folks' nationality? Personally I don't care. "Where are you from?" is a question that is way down the list of things I'd talk about on first meeting someone who might have an accent or a different skin colour in London. I may be white and have English as my first language but I know that I consider my brown skinned neighbours much more English than I (at least the 2nd generation that were born and raised here), and it's going on 20 years since I moved here from Scotland. London also lost a lot of good people due to the double whammy of Brexit and Covid driving Europeans out.

As far as fashion goes, I'd say you're probably wide of the mark. Yeah sure, Paris has a distinguished history of couture, but London has been far ahead of Paris in terms of driving forward actual fashion that "real" people wear at least since the 60's. There's much more conformity in Paris to classic French ideas of style and generally people will play it safer so they don't stand out. New York has a strong identity through its strong black culture in terms of hip hop and the associated styles that have shaped fashion globally, and Berlin doesn't even come close. "Looking ridiculous" is highly subjective of course, but personally I'd rather people try something different rather than worrying too much about that.

Central London is massively over-touristed. I rarely have a need to go up there much these days. When you suggest charging admission to national museums and galleries, bear in mind that the national collection of art displayed in these places belongs to the British taxpayer. They should remain free at the point of entry for us to enjoy. Think of The National Gallery as my gift to you to enjoy for free. Sorry it was too crowded for you :)

So yeah, remember London is a big, diverse place made up of of many "towns" with more history than other "historical" places in England where next to nothing has happened in the last few hundred years. You're only basing your impressions on one very narrow aspect of it.

A lot in your reply Gerry. First of all, I looked for some statistics about foreign-born population in London. The percentage has doubled since 1990. In 1990 about 80% of London's population was UK born. Now it is 60%.

Add to this the tourists who cross a big population bump in the city in the summer, and you have a lot of people in London who are not from London nor the UK.

I'm not saying this is a bad thing on its face as some.kind of absolute. Some of my favorite cities in the world have, like London, both large and diverse foreign born populations. I'm not in the least, as you choose to characterize, expressing a casual survey of race. Demographic statistics, if not perfectly, then reasonably accurately bear out my perceptions.

Doubling of the foreign born population has its effect on a city's vibe. It feels like every other woman carrying a yoga mat opens her mouth and is clearly from New York. It's okay for me to prefer the London of 1991. I also probably would not dig Dubai, moved out of San Francisco as all stripe of tech imports blanched out some of the city's character. London feels more like a bland business town than it used to. Nothing more, nothing less.

I walk neighborhoods relentlessly when I visit cities. In the past four day, including today, I've walked Notting Hill, Bayswater, Earl's Court, Kensington, Belgravia, Chelsea, Mayfair. Westminster, the South Bank, the City, Covent Garden. The East End, Bloomsburg, Soho, Fitzrovia, Regent Park and more. I understand that not all of these neighborhoods are the Rolex neighborhoods, but it's abundantly clear that London's GINI coefficient has increased over the past decades and that that effect pervades most of the places that I have visit. The parts of the city I have visited are overwhelmingly dominated by corporate businesses, as far as I can see, far more than Tokyo or Paris. This is a change for sure, and I don't have to like it. I can go to the upscale mall at home.

I will say that I am sure there are sectors of the city I have not checked in on, in the trends I am seeing are not isolated just to London. But I don't have to love it. It's okay for me to not vibe with some given city as much as others.

Regarding my suggestion that London charge for museums, and your offering of museums as a gift to me (thanks very much, btw): a more practical scheme might be for cLondon or UK residents, who as taxpayers reportedly own the art (although go try to borrow a painting for a weekend and see how that goes), to be admitted free. Tourists might have to pay 5 pounds. I'd wager that no locals then would be affected, and no one who really wanted to see the museum would miss it. You would lose half of the tourists who saw a sign that said free all you can eat buffet and decided on an early lunch even though they had a big breakfast. It would be better I think then being sardined into the museums with 60% of the viewing audience who probably doesn't actually care. I've seen this scheme in other places and it seems to work pretty well. And I've donated 20 pounds to every museum my family of four has visited so far anyway, so no skin off my back, happy to support the arts. Those donation machines though get walked past by more than 90% of the people coming in.

I will say, Gerry, that today is a Monday, and I've liked London better today than over the weekend. I'm wondering now if the avalanche of fashion disasters was the bridge and tunnel crowd. Much better today than yesterday or the day before. And not seeing the Bentleys and supercars and ivy league Americans all over the place - I suppose the Rolexed had to go back to work this morning.

Central London though was still a wacky packed tourist zoo. As a local, you can avoid it, but really as a tourist you kind of have to go no? Slap your eyeballs across Big Ben etc?

Anyway, I don't hate your town, just not my town. But different strokes for sure.

Oh one more thing, not to get super deeply into back and forth, but I don't think you're giving Parisians enough credit for their fashion choices. The reason they do it well is because they are fashion ninjas, not because they are fashion conformists. As far as I can see anyway.

https://imgur.com/a/ckGMqN7

Sunday roast at the Builders Arms in Kensington. Some tasty chunks of beef under those puddings. Nice pub, nice staff!

Thanks for the interesting takes on your London experiences. The figures on the native population were intriguing. I was in London for over 2 weeks this year and really enjoyed the city but I almost hyperventilated looking at those pictures of yours. Yikes. The key for my great time was that it was in February I can see now.

The crowd pictures made me twitch and reminded me not to return to “The Top Ten Places to Visit”.Was that last photo Borough Market?. Bill had been a fan of revisiting his favorite places until this last trip. He loved Versailles and the Louvre and we’ve had successful visits in the past, so he wanted to go again this trip. I think if we’d never been it wouldn’t have been so disappointing, but the crowds really impacted our enjoyment and he couldn’t wait to get leave. Once we hit less popular sites, his enjoyment returned and our usual Paris neighborhood is not especially popular with tourists, so there’s a different feel. It seems like you’ve most enjoyed the smaller towns that are less popular with crowds and understandably so.

That dinner looked delicious.

14

https://imgur.com/a/jO46F7S

I'm in Marlborough, a little strip of shop between two towers 20 miles west of Bath. Yesterday kissed my girls goodbye, then rode a lap around Hyde Park to London Paddington Station. Alit at Reading, end of the line. Pretty remarkable that you can ride the train for an hour out of town and just by tapping your phone at each end of the journey.

I really liked London's phone/card tapping system for local transit. It completely removes a level of complication and instantly integrates you into the flow of things, and allows you to stay anywhere in the city you feel like staying and not pay a penalty for being less than dead center. It seems like the Tube often runs at intervals less than 5 or 7 minutes, so you can trundle off to wherever quickly and easily from wherever.

And on the subject, although I appreciate the recommendation, I am SO glad that we cancelled our hotel reservation at the County Hall for a rental flat in Kensington and a few more trips on the Tube. Our first full day was a central London big sites tourists day, which you might recall was a horrendous mob scene everywhere famous in the center. The County Hall Hotel, fair enough, lets you walk to these things relatively easily as it sits on the South Bank like a hub to spokes of bridges. But several of the mob scene pictures I posted are along the ways that you would walk to major sights. And the County Hall Hotel is not immediately situated in anything you could call a neighborhood. It's mostly big buildings and faceless and or scrubby high-speed boulevards. Double-decker buses and high-speed electric cargo bikes careen 30 mph around the softly angled left hand turns, drivers obviously hardened by the endless crowds of people into no longer seeing them as human. I bet people get hit all the time, because even when they see a close call coming that foot does not come off the gas. It reminded me of Buenos Aires, where the buses may as well be trains. The combination of being pinned into the ultra-touristed gauntlet, scruffy no man's land, and a zone where are frustrated motor vehicles finally get to stretch out their gait - I don't think I've ever been so happy to see a hotel and not be staying in it.

Kensington, for its part, was lovely, leafy, calm and well heeled. The flat cost a bit less than two hotel rooms for a two bed one bath (so not entirely without hazard with two teen girls) flat. We were located in a lovely residential row house, one block from an accommodating pub and four blocks from a Whole Foods Market (because why not send the money back home to Bezos? ;) I think what they call it is posh? We felt a little posh anyway.

But anywho, from Reading I rode 46 miles and 2000vf along a pretty canal path and then up into the North Downs national something area's beautiful hills. The Southern England countryside that I've seen so far is really very pretty. It's a little hard to describe how and why. It's not so dramatic, and maybe less quaint than one might imagine, and it doesn't translate that well in pictures. But the rise of the hills, the cut of the fields, the leafiness of the trees and forests somehow combine to fire the part of the brain that responds to pleasing vistas. In its own way as good to look at as Monterey California, or Joshua Tree, or Central Oregon, which I did not expect from the pictures.

Marlborough is not at all noteworthy, but I like where I am staying. It was 44 pounds all in for a comfy hotel room with a huge cooked breakfast. There must have been half a pound of very nice quality smoked salmon on my plate. I felt bad for ordering it off the extensive menu and then not finishing all of it. Little pub in the hotel was lively until 8:30 and then fully dead by 9:30.

Today off to Castle Combe and the Bath. Shooting to arrive in Bath a bit early and spend time touristing by foot.

This morning I heard a local woman in whatever the local accent is here say to an acquaintance "just taking my pooch for a potter, potter and a wee, off we go then." I'm not sure exactly what this region is but maybe Wallaceandgrommetshire? :)

You were on the Kennett and Avon Canal- the link from the River Thames to the Bristol Channel, and thus the Irish Sea. Keep going from Bath, down the river, and you will ultimately end up at the modern Bristol docks.
Turn right up the River Severn to Worcester to pop back into the Canal System. 2,000 miles or so of towing paths to cycle- including two different ways back to London if you wanted - via Oxford or the Grand Union canal.
Not sure off hand if you can cycle the Severn
Utterly contrasting routes- the narrow Oxford then the dreamy Thames or the broad Grand Union- the I90 of the canal age, and as busy back in the day.
A b and b in Marlborough for £44 in July is some find.
You're in Wiltshire currently.

Thanks for the info on canals!

My loose plan, subject to my brain butterflies flapping elsewhere, is to catch a train to Salisbury from Bath tomorrow morning, right about 25 miles of the fairly newly conceived King Alfred's Trail gravel ride to Winchester, gaze upon the Majesty of Winchester, and maybe ride down to Portsmouth or such for a sleep. And then next morning a ferry to the Isle of Wight to ride the 60 mile trail around.

But I really never know until I start pedaling :)

I have commenced composing song lyrics to a a soon to be smash hit called "I Rode to Bath."

It is sung to the tune of Ace of Base " I Saw the Sign."

I rode to Bath
My Garmin did the math
I rode to Bath
Even with no car
The trip to Bath's not so far

There are many more verses, some of them lapsing into the comic blue of the countryside, and hence I shall spare you :)

Riding through the lovely town of Bullinfield

https://imgur.com/a/I9N5UpP

And I have spotted Stonehenge. Majestic on its hill.

https://imgur.com/a/L07SNgf

Hank - good to see that you have made it but a little disappointed that you didn't choose one of the routes further north, which would have given you a significant contrast to your riding in the south.

Like you I really don't like London, even though I do end up visiting a lot as my eldest son, daughter-in-law and now granddaughter live down there. I can feel more relaxed in the neighbourhood where they live, in Forest Gate, which has no tourist interest at all (save for a plaque marking where Jimi Hendrix wrote Purple Haze), but is a thriving multi-cultural hub.

Your list of the areas you visited belies the fact that you never got out of tourist London. I understand the need to see the iconic sights and you can't avoid central London or crowds for that but if you want to get a feel for "proper" London you really need to get further out. As you point out, with the public transport you can do that quickly and easily. If you ever come back try going out east - I suspect your reference to the East End was to areas like Whitechapel and Spitalfields but there is a lot of interest further out.

Or, alternatively, next time you come fly into Manchester instead!

but if you want to get a feel for "proper" London you really need to get further out.

I'm think we've had a similar topic already. Almost all tourists start with the touristy places. If that spark doesn't ignite, they either don't want to go to other parts of the city, or they don't even consider visiting them. Depending on their travel style, I often suspect the second. Who wants to see anything different from everyone else in the hectic Instagram bucket list crowd? It's more impressive if I tell my followers I've been to London, Paris, and Rome, and not just visited all parts of London :-) Exaggerated, but my point is certainly clear.
For me, it would be that initial spark has to ignite before I make the effort to see the rest. If that doesn't ignite in the touristy corner, then I need good arguments to delve deeper. I'm afraid that's why so much authenticity remains hidden from all of us, regardless of our travel style.

But what Hank said about the changes in London applies to almost every city, more or less. Some cities and cultures seem to have more immunity to new outside influences than others. And honestly, how many people even bother to determine whether this or that is truly authentic? You're most likely to notice this when you haven't visited a city or country in a long time. I'd probably be shocked if I were back in London after so many years.

London has changed a lot in 35 years and many people feel the same as Hank - that it’s not been for the better. As Mignon says, this (immigration) is happening in cities all across Western Europe and is partly why we see the rise of populist/far right parties. People don’t like change and feel nostalgic for the past.

There has been a lot of immigration for various reasons - global wars and unrest but also economic necessity. London needs a lot of low paid workers and British people don’t want to do those jobs while living in such an expensive city.

Thanks for the reply. I'm not really feeling the change specifically to any given demographic, labor costs etc. To me it feels fairly broad spectrum. In Kensington, for instance, there were a ton of American expats, Russians, French, Saudi and Saudi adjacent. I guess I need to go farther out from the center, but closer to the center the shops seemed more universally corporate and upscale than the last time I visited.

Exceptions to this corporate shopping seemed to be Notting Hill (although there was an Amorino gelato on the main street), and Bayswater, where the shopping street was significantly more upscale than previously, but with independent businesses.

It's the general trend everywhere, but London is so neighborhood-y it was nice when there was more of a mom and pop vibe.

Anyway, we had fun! We will return I'm sure, but not as a primary choice, more like flights fit the itinerary so let's do a weekend.

Next time you're staying in Chelsea, have your Bugatti and three Ferraris flown over on a 747 like the young lads from the Gulf states do in summer. You'll fit right in on the King's Road.

Will do.

Kensington is certainly more expensive than it looks. Our entire house would trade for for a 1400-ft two bedroom flat. I can't imagine how much the big townhouses must cost. Which is fine because I wouldn't want to live in London anyway. But man, given the real estate prices the global elite seem to be quite keen.

What's the (semi?) private road that runs north from the high street just west of Hyde Park? Much security at each end. Can a regular mortal enter or is it preserved for the gods?

Carriage Drive? I think it's part of The Royal Parks estate, so it's in a grey area between private and public. I'm just reading now it's closed to traffic overnight and on Sundays. It may be closed for events in the park too.

You can read about the trials of closing it to vehicles altogether here -

https://www.royalparks.org.uk/park-management/park-strategies/movement-strategy/consultation-permanent-weekday-road-closure-south-carriage-drive

Once you reach Bullinfield it is a short hop to Charter.

My great-great-aunt liked to say that when she was a girl she wanted to live in Charter when she grew up because everyone on the bus marked Charter was always so happy.

Almost hoist on my own petard; took a beat before I realized Charter isn't a town :)

Leaving Bath now, by train. Plan is exit Salisbury, ride about 50 miles and 3 ferrys, sleep Ryde, Isle of Wight.

Forecast is torrential thunderstorms over an extended period, so thought about sitting today out as fair weather begins recommences on Friday. But I am, reportedly, not made out of sugar, my ridiculous sweet tooth notwithstanding. Going to try to tough it out. Hardest part really is being a completely soaked drowned rat at every shop, transit juncture, and into the hotel. One hopes for sympathy out-balancing scorn.

Actually though, the hardest part is being certain to stay upright and not get hit by a car in ugly weather riding. I will go forth today with my strongest possible intentionality around personal safety while riding. I'm going to be smart, I'm going to be safe. Should be an adventure!

15

https://imgur.com/a/fl5Upfm

The cycling from Marlborough to Bath via the Cotteswold village of Castle Combe was absolutely lovely.

Around 42 miles and 2000 feet of climbing again. Riding here is harder than the numbers. For one surfaces have been mostly gravel tracks of various severity. And the tarmac parts are rough. Combined much slower than smooth asphalt.

And the hills are tough. If it was mountains you settle in to long climbs and find a groove. And then aome places have a lot of small rollers, which can gift you a quarter to a third of your elevation by way of momentum. But here it's slow runs up to punchy climbs too long to sprint up.

And hard to get into the aero bars. Either too hilly and/or too bumpy and/or too narrow and/or too busy. Not a lot of time to lay forward and relax and pick up that free extra gear a sleeker slipstream affords.

So overall my average speed has been 25-30% slower than doodling along with the girls through Belgium. To maintain a high average speed here, one must earnestly and constantly push. No wonder Britain produces so many super elite racers.

Me I'm happy to make the hotel without two knees sore :)

I chatted with the Mayor of Bullinfield yesterday (he said he was the farmer but I knew better). I was about to exit Bullinfield and there was a lone cow standing sentinel at the gate. I loudly thanked her for safe passage and wished her a good day.

A voice came from behind a fence in the opposite direction - "just be sure to pull the gate closed."

I said, oh, I was talking to the cow and it turns out there was a person. It was humorous.

The Mayor replied briefly - "ah, carry on then." It was not humorous.

I did lightly chat up the Mayor, and complimented his lovely land and healthy cows. He was a good enough chap, but stolid, and preferred to loop back to a narrow platform of "close the gates," peppered with brief tales large numbers of his constituents roam hither and yon.

We agreed that the non gate closers were thoughtless scoundrels, and the the right-minded always closed gates, and parted ways. But I wondered how he won his elections as a one issue candidate with voters who were involuntarily contained by his policies? Maybe the locals on the balance love the nanny state? The freedom-minded among them must look longingly past the fences and ruefully moo.

After big plate ham egg chips pub dinner last night, washed down with a delicious local real ale, I breakfasted responsibly this morning yogurt and fruit.

Then I bought a sausage roll at the train station. Lord help me! Hopefully I get out of England before the colon polyps set in firm.

https://imgur.com/a/fy9eCIk

Stayed at the Hampton Inn in Bath. Don't recommend. Nice enough rooms and good location, and price qas in line with the other mostly pricey choices.

But the hotel is depressingly American. Those terrible make your own waffles at the breakfast. No toilet brushes. Lots of CNN on TV, etc. Good sleep but hard pass next time.

Also, got a haircut and beard trim at a local barber. Kurdish Turk, did as expected fantastic job, quickly and for a very fair price.

A lighter flicked and before I new it he was flaming my ears. Tap tap tap. Felt just a little warm and acrid burnt hair odor wafted. Awesome experience suddenly having my ears bopped with a flaming stick. First time for me and I'd do it again for sure!

16A

Split this post into two parts, before Isle of Wight and after Isle of Wight.

https://imgur.com/a/4Ud7DWR

Between the two I rode about 70 miles and 2500 feet. Relatively easy going as nearly all paved.

Up and out early from Bath, bike on train unproblematic. Started riding in Salisbury, destination Portsmouth.

Some relatively dangerous and bad looking riding on this leg, but manageable. Toured some of real England I suppose, run down housing estates, industrial areas, working class suburbs. A lot of passerbys looking clinically depressed.

Did see some beautiful old churches in the ordinary countryside, a couple pretty fields of vegetables. In full bloom squash can do a low rent sunflower impersonation.

Almost no amenities along the way. Ate at a McDonald's across from the Ikea in Southampton.

After Southampton the going improved, better track, nicer views. Got to the adorable little pink ferry that shuttle one across a little inlet. Made the mistake of opening chat with the ferrysman by proposing the 2 pound coin change he handed me back was handsome currency. He responded with vitriol about the king being taken off the money, then rolled into a dissertation on the glories of DJT, how new tariffs were responsible for the USA's radical economic turn around and boom, federal coffers exploding with tariff profits, on schedule for our national debt to be paid off in this manner before the end of term. And then a bunch of anger at immigrants and perverts.

So here I am on a tiny boat with this guy pressing me for my position, directly asking if I was down with Trumpism. "I am not a fan. Not thrilled with the left fringe either." Try to move to lightening with comedy - "I suppose we both get our misinformation from different outlets." He did not like that and the boat became frosty. I figured I could push him overboard and drive myself to shore if circumstances really escalated ;)

All on the super cute little pink ferry!

Let's note that I'm not being political here per se, only relating a weird travel experience with a person awkwardly entitled to forcefully expressing divisive politics. These people from across the spectrum are exhausting, as if because you don't treat face to face public discourse like a Facebook screed you don't have your own considered politics. Silly.

More broadly, the British on the whole are super, though seem on average a bit more sour and closed off than I remember, a bit harder to engage in chat (except ferry guy - he was ready to go). But then again I was younger the last time I was here, interacting with younger people. So definitely not calling anything a trend!

Arrived at the Isle of Wight ferry without issue, easy ticketing, easy ride.

I wondered how you were doing three ferries to the Isle of Wight- this is the Hamble to Warsash ferry, then to Gosport for the Gosport ferry then to Ryde.
An interesting route.

16B

I'm hopelessly, gaga, head over heels in love with the Isle of Wight.

https://imgur.com/a/vJ5057E

Absolutely no idea how I did not know about this place. Only decided to come a day or so ago, and only because a regular or two on the CyclingUK forums suggested that the ride around the island was worthwhile.

If I was English, working in London or such, married to my current wife who also would be English in this scenario, my life would operate thusly: be as fiscally conservative as possible; buy a vacation place on the Isle of Wight, enjoy that vacation place until retirement, retire, sell house in London or such, move to Isle of Wight, upgrade housing on Isle of Wight, enjoy and reflect on the fabulous set of choices that I made, die, be ashes scattered about the island.

I've been nowhere in Europe that reminds me as much of coastal central California as the Isle of Wight. So much of the English seaside is tinged with the sort of desperation Martin Parr captured so poignantly in his seaside street photography. But this place, and the people here, know precisely what to do with a good looking seaside environment. So yeah, it reminds me of the Monterey area, also gorgeous English countryside, and in certain ways Hawaii. The sand is beautiful and there is a distinct lushness to many areas.

The people here, both locals and visitors are more open and smile more and more readily than what I've experienced in the previous week on the mainland. Island culture brah? Kind of I think, an island to an island. It's hard to turn away from the coast, but the interior has beautiful villages and bucolic countryside. You could hike yourself silly on all the public walking trails crisscrossing coast to coast to coast to coast. There's a lot of tourist infrastructure too, some pitched at the middle class English holiday, some more upscale, feeling like Laguna Beach or such.

I need to bring my wife back here, and I would love to do a boys bike trip with a couple days on IOW as the relaxing midpoint.

Anyway, after my beautiful breakfast (who knew that two simple poached eggs on an English muffin could be so good? How the hell do you make a fluffy poached egg? And do yourself a favor, get a real homemade English muffin into your life) here at the Fig Tree hotel in Shanklin I'm readying for another day at the pedals. Around the south and west sides of the island, the ferry across to the New Forest National Park. Train station in the heart of the nat park to Winchester for the night. Should be a special day!

I need to bring my wife back here and spend at least a few days -

Riding past a carefully manicured, thatched country hobby house, two healthy boys picking fat, ripe rosehips that grew draped along the south-facing old stone wall to the street.

"Hullo"

"Hey guys, picking rosehips I see?"

Younger one "yes, mummy is making jam!"

"Wow, lucky you."

Older one "enjoy the road."

A fellow cyclist saw me stopped at a crossroads and stopped to wellness check. Finding me fine, we had a great little chat. He said the old saw is that Isle of Wight is 50 years behind the rest of Britain, but he reckoned it was more like 35. Around 60 years old, he moved from the Midlands at 45 and it was the best decision of his life.

The rest of my ride was dramatically scenic and peppered with endless little sights. I traversed the farming area, which again could have been the better looking parts of the Salinas Valley. People smile a lot, easily and at strangers. It's a cool place, something special if you are the type to be caught by what it offers.

I was torn about leaving so soon, particularly waiting for the ferry where I could feel the vibe already fading back into the mainland. But I'm tired of riding with my bags, and two nights in Winchester will give me a full day to explore the South Downs 15 pounds lighter.

After tonight and tomorrow night in Winchester (probably, don't have a room yet and haven't really properly looked at a map) there's only one more night left, destined to be spent right next to Heathrow Airport. My bike needs to be boxed up first thing Tuesday morning, and that where the shop is.

So winding down to the end fast! I'm tired today, but I can rest on the plane three days from now :)

Hank, I love your English fantasy life! I've now added Isle of Wight to my lists. Thank you!

Thanks Jean!

Tonight's last minute hotel is above the Wykeham Arms in Winchester. They certainly put the gastro in gastropub:

https://imgur.com/a/FwwVJEr

I don't understand Winchester. Big time historic town, pretty core buildings, plain to scrubby elsewhere. Partially a university type vibe. Also quite working class feeling. Town is drinking pretty hard, good number of street alcoholics, some junkies peppered in. Lot of teen moms. Lot more T&A fashion than in other places I've been, including London, with the corresponding dudes, kind of a low rent The Only Way is Essex sort of vibe. The train station area seemed lightly sketch at 5:00 p.m. Much cops around town, and actively rousting people anytime I see them.

The cathedral is hulking and satisfyingly fat and planted, a reassuring solidity in the day's fading light. Unlike most other cathedrals, it looks remarkably defensible. Doors are small and solid, All windows high enough that it would take a long ladder.

I was going to book two nights, but I wasn't liking availability with the second night attached. So tomorrow bike reloads and I move on, not sure where.

Time is short; hopefully tomorrow serendipity finds me one more time.

Loved the lamb pie and the big glass of red! And I hope you gave a thought to Jane while you were in the cathedral. I really want to see her resting place someday and Chawton Cottage. Next winter visit to London perhaps.

I love your descriptions of the Isle of Wight. Sounds so inviting. You really have a way with your travel log, Hank. Thanks for taking us along.

I will post a few pictures of Austen's resting place Lyndash. Winchester is a lovely cathedral, majestic and quite moving inside because along with the church stuff it is so loaded with English history and culture.

I think I understand the town a bit better now. In some ways it just kind of mimics historic English social tropes. A few aristocratic places, a posh merchants district (which was my comfort level), and the middle classes down the line to abject poor. Early this morning booths were being set up in the marketplace. The sellers were shouting bawdly to one another, belly laughing at 7am. Ancient women shuffled towards churches for morning prayers. Two men crossed in the street - Raymond, I haven't seen you for a long time, still living in the car park? Nah, I've upgraded to a tent. He wasn't kidding.

Anyway, the town feels like the full meal deal of traditional English society. Worth the visit.

17A

Flew back to Seattle yesterday, so I’m going to put a bow on this summer’s trip reporting. There will be some added PS’ing I’m sure.

I think I left off the morning I left Winchester to ride the South Downs Way, a long distance hiking and cycling trail from Winchester to Eastbourne. It was a good ride, scenic and difficult enough. Significantly busier than my ride through the North Downs, and about equally as scenic. All in all, I think I preferred my North Downs two day route from Reading to Bath more than the South Downs two days from Winchester to where I terminated near Brighton. Terrain more varied, but maybe also the concept of cycling the English countryside fresher. But both are very good. So nice England sets up so many long distance routes on which her people can get out and ramble. Feels like a historic cultural practice.

https://imgur.com/a/rDTtWtW

I stayed at a pub hotel called the Wykeham Arms in Winchester. It was bursting with character, good food, good service. And then another good pub hotel along the South Downs Way called the Hampshire Hog. I also like the Hampshire Hog a lot - nice service, good food, and much character. Thought a lot about pub culture and the independent families at these places who were proudly keeping it alive. Until that is I slowly, too slowly, figured out my romantic notion was wrong and these were corporate joints owned by Fullers. Oh look, this one gives a free bottle of Fuller in the mini-fridge too. Wow, I guess there’s a standard mix of teas in a pub hotel. Have I seen this breakfast menu before? Why is this Complete Milton glued shut and glued down? Etc, until finally, hey wait a minute this is a well-dressed corpo chain! This ain’t mom and pop Britain, it’s Engla-Disney.

But I still thoroughly enjoyed and recommend both, and by proxy any of the 20-ish other Fuller’s pub hotels. Bit pricey, but so comfy, great staffs, good food. What can I say? It dawned on me about ten years ago the despite my illusions of rogue independence I’m very much a basic b****. So I roll with it, right down the discerning middle I guess.

Pub culture, nevertheless (and I visited many outside the corpo sneaks) is pretty awesome. There’s a bit of pain for me birthing into a pub that’s essentially an Anglo version of the “cafemorphosis” I experience every time I approach a cafe on the continent - this place is for the people sitting looking comfortable in their skins, not for me. But then of course once beveraged and ensconced I’m part of the comfortable fabric. But a pub has the added ease of walk up to the bar to start, then find a seat which you rightfully let by way of the paid for drink you are carrying. Ease into the ice bath.

The swath of types and purposes of pub users is a fine little democracy. Men, women, children, dogs. Alone, couples, families, groups. Drinks, meals, snacks. English, transplant, tourist. A beer, a wine, just tea, or getting positively hammered. Roll each of these dice (and more) and the numbers that come up are always plausible. Nice.

17B

The sultry summer afternoon I arrived at the Hampshire Hog a wedding was on. Heard the clapping through an open window as I exited the shower. An hour later I walked up the bar, acquired a nice pint of cider, and found a table on the lawn from which I could observe the festivities, which did not disappoint. Tables of people, relatives and neighbors the general look, looking mostly quite uncomfortable, occasionally proposing the weather or some such as fodder for a short round of comments and then more uncomfort. Lovely to observe. Wine was provided by the hosts, and it split the crowd quite handily into the majority having surprisingly little or none, and a minority taking personal bottles and self-administering huge pours. One such trio, a bottle Merlot and two Pinot Grigios, found the picnic table right in my eyeline. Millennials, man, man, woman, maybe young 30’s. Maybe cousins? All unremarkably hipsterish, the woman in a retro sundress flouncing merrily about the large blotch of tattoo on the outside of her left thigh.

They took long pulls of their wines and talked with animation. Soon convo centered on the woman’s endless problem with men becoming obsessed with her. Latest a neighbor, actor, older and not not handsome, arrives totally unexpected at her door with flowers and a full court press about giving it a try. No idea how the poor sod got so firmly on the hook.

As this narrative progressed, the woman, sitting facing me a leg on each side of the picnic bench, occasionally swung a leg deliberately across the bench, flashing me her proper white cotton knickers on each pass, slanting evening sun creating a brightness that might burn into one’s retinas. Each time I’m trying to avoid the burning white beam without being obvious about it; each time she very subtly checks from behind pale sunglasses that I’ve noticed. Male cousin types no idea as she continues to catalog the parade of men who “are positively obsessed” with her for “no idea why.” It was lightly disturbing, but more than anything genuinely hilarious - could have been a comedy skit produced by Ricky Gervais. English wedding did not disappoint as casual entertainment!

17C

In character - and completely on average among myriad personalities - I found the English to be more similar to Germans than I had imagined. I tend to use humor to break ice and casually connect to strangers, even in passing. I’ve learned in the US to be very careful about this - too many dumb people who don’t get it and/or become aggressive as they misinterpret. Once a Seattle mini-market cashier asked me if I wanted anything else as she looked at the rack of various cigarettes to her right. I said, “oh smokes? Never tried - what’s a good one for beginners?” Instant anger on her part - “well if you don’t smoke you shouldn’t start!” This might have been a German reaction. The English will for sure get the joke, but the response is often quite muted - quick, minimal, polite and detached recognition that you made a funny, then straight back to complete separation with a barely perceptible vibe of minor discomfort.

For instance at the Hampshire Hog I somehow ended up in the middle of a very tall family of 6 or 7 adults walking into the pub, which was lightly uncomfortable but not too unusual. I’m also quite tall: “I’m tall enough to sneak through with you so they don’t know I’m American.” One guy in the group, quietly: “yes,” edges of lips just barely lift for a microsecond and then total disconnect. It might not have been hilarious, but with most Irish for example, that sort of tension breaking humor would have rated a few times cheery back and forth. Not so with many English - the reserve is for real. I liked experiencing it, this reserve and its discomforts. As a broadly defined (and again not all encompassing) cultural characteristic it drives so much comedy and drama in narrative arts, Monty Python and Jane Austen and Peep Show and on and on. Fascinating, this muting of the internal dialogue to the outside world.

17D

My route was intended to end in Eastbourne, but I lost a 90 minute chunk of riding helping a distraught girl find her run away Wheaten Terrier Lucy. We were on top of a broad ridge top and my bike could cover a lot more ground than she could on foot. After yelling Lucy more times than RIcky Ricardo I was finally able to report that Lucy was safe, but still a naughty dog and would not come to me. Many tears and much thanks (from the poor girl, Lucy clearly dgaf). It was nice not to have any real agenda on the day and so be able to decide, well, I suppose my new itinerary is amateur dog catcher.

So I ended up near Brighton in a smaller but similar seaside resort. It’s wild what the English choose to do with most beaches, particularly coming from the west coast with its endless natural beauty, wherein pristine is the ultimate aesthetic. I never want to stay long at a developed English beach resort area, but I do love seeing it - the people, the decay, the garish infrastructure and amenities. Why? But such a fun little world to pass through, like an aforementioned Martin Parr photo book come to life.

https://imgur.com/a/oZf1b3W

Returned to to the London area by train, stop East Croydon. From there I rode 35 miles through surburbia, Wimbledon, Richmond park, etc, to a bike shop near Heathrow that will break down and box up your ride for flight. The penultimate mile was hair-raisingly dangerous, huge high speed traffic circle choking with massive angry commercial vehicles. I picked my way through very carefully, rode on any available sidewalk.

Dropped the bike and headed for London for a final late afternoon and evening. Wasn’t sure where to get off the train, so lunged at Harrods for a food court snack and look at the Egyptian escalator, walked across Hyde Park and up through Bayswater. Walked down the street called Kensington Palace Gardens, taking in the many regular embassies and getting aggressively mean-mugged by machine gun wielding guards at the Israeli embassy. It was somewhat absurd the level of hateful eyeballing. I almost quoted Bill Murray - lighten up Francis - but thought it best not to establish communication with the pack of paid killers sharing a single pop up tent in the light drizzle.

Walked all the way out the Kensington High Street. I did like this sub-neighborhood once you get a mile out that way. If I had to pick a place in London to live with my limited knowledge, this would be it. Then walked down to Earl’s Court to a pub reputed to have good Indian food. $27 for a dish of chicken tikka, another $8.50 for a modest bowl of rice. Ate Indian three times in England, and each time felt like I was getting juiced for a bigger bill. And definitely no better (nor no more authentic) and I’d say not as good as the median Indian resto in the US. And much pricier. Live and learn, but not at all bad and very nice pub atmosphere.

17E

Tube back to the off airport Radisson for one more sleep. Next morning did a gym workout for the first time in a month. Had been keeping up on some push ups every other day but nothing else outside riding a bike and walking. Went better than expected, and the hotel had a really good gym with all the right real equipment. Nice.

Walked across the street to retrieve my boxed bike, hoofed it to a next door hotel to wait for the shuttle 3.5 hours before flight time. And this is where the worst airport experience of my life started. The blow by blow is tedious, but suffice to say that the combination of both the Heathrow auto tunnel and the train tunnel being closed for technical reasons spiraled me into airport hell. I had to eventually bus to Terminal 5 for my Terminal 3 flight, and then wait over an hour for a packed train to Terminal 3. No escalators were running in either terminal to or from the train platforms, and security was not letting anyone walk up a stopped escalator. So hundreds and hundreds of stressed late travelers mobbed for a few elevators. Did I mention I had a giant heavy cardboard box with my bike inside? Hell. Through the almost 3 hours of cramming in crowds and waiting there was zero information about the delays over the PA, and the zombie-like airport and rail employees slowly shuffling around in their high viz vests seemed to willfully not give info. This is worlds different than the US, which might also full-on cluster f, but where for sure the PA and bellowing workers will tell you what is up. Americans seemed most disturbed by the lack of info - most others seemed more carry on and the flight will or won’t be made.

https://imgur.com/a/yHoRo2n

Finally made the Virgin Atlantic check in line right when my flight was boarding, and fortunately there an employee canvased for my Seattle flight and pulled me to a quicker check in. I was instructed to take my bike box to oversize drop off, where I imagined I leave my box and high-tail it to security. Not so. An uncommunicative airport worker said come with me, and I followed him, pushing bike box on a trolley, behind a security door and snaked through the secure area bowels of the airport to a giant conveyor belt with some sort of scanner equipment. He instructed me to lie the box on the belt, did no scanning of any sort, and whizzed the bike back into the luggage system. I might have checked an atom bomb and I don’t think it would have been inspected. We stood there for an uncomfortable ten seconds wasting time until I asked him if I was done. Yes. Another ten seconds and I inquired should I show myself out? Yes. So solo I I hustled around the twisting halls of secure area of the airport, struggling to remember how I came in.

Found my way back to the gen pop area and jogged to security. Short line! But apparently every single summer traveler in front of me in the lane I selected could not understand the regularly publicly announced words “take your iPads out of your bags” and such until they were uttered directly in front of them by the woman at the scanner. Oh, iPad? Do I have one? Yes, why? You want me to do what? Okay, just give me two minutes to find it. Good, right then. Oh, you didn’t say all of my iPads. Now what’s this about my belt? In an airport obviously overwhelmed with stressed out late people. They should have a trap door, and if your iPad isn’t frackin’ out of your bag by the time you’ve heard five announcements and arrived at the scanner, you drop straight into your seat on the bus.

Then I ran maybe a short mile to my farthest away possible gate to try to make it before the door closed, only to find that the flight would board a completely unannounced 40 minutes late. I’d say oh well, needed the exercise, but I’d ridden my bike more than 300 miles and 16,000 vertical feet in the past week.

17F

So yes, when they came around with welcome sparkling wine in Virgin Premium Economy, I took the largest pour on the tray. The Led Zeppelin authorized documentary, decent Indian food lunch, nap, first season of Fleabag, Martin Parr (here he is again!) bio doc, 4 episodes of Peep Show and I was home. A bit sad the month long adventure was over, but so happy to see my beloved family!

Thanks very much for reading, sorry for all the typos. May all of your travels be everything you hoped for, and many things you didn’t too ;)

A few photos from London

https://imgur.com/a/CumsAMX

Hank, there are no pictures on the above link.

Hank, Welcome home! Sorry for the airport headaches, but before your flight than on it.

That last link above should be good to go. There's not much in it, for some reason didn't take a lot of pictures in London.

Thanks so much for your trip report! Laughed out loud about the trap door and had to read it to my husband. I can't wait til you on another trip, I enjoy your trip reports so much.

Very entertaining-- you captured the spirit of the places and people with great economy in both the text and the photos.

Forum readers who enjoyed this trip report by Hank might also be interested in Paul Theroux's book about his walk around Britain in 1982, published in 1983 as The Kingdom By The Sea

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kingdom_by_the_Sea

Hank, great following you from Frankfurt through Germany, on through the Low Countries with your family and then along the pub crawl replete with flashes of light. Thanks for sharing what you saw, what you did, and what you experienced.

I worried about you this morning. Five days, no more updates, What happened? Hopefully a safe finish and travel home explain the delay … but no word in five days!

Glad you finished with flair … apart from the predictable mess and near disasters at LHR. Is there a worse airport anywhere in the developed or developing world?

Welcome home.