Falling behind schedule, and falling (mostly!) on my feet
I was on the second day of a 2-day mini-tour, having left work at lunchtime on Friday and cycled the 130km from my home in Potsdam, south-westwards, to stop for the night in the small spa town of Bad Salzelmen, just on the other side of the river Elbe. The Hotel am Kurpark was comfortable, reasonably priced, and looked after me and my bike very well overnight. The only blot on their record was the terrible coffee accompanying the otherwise excellent breakfast. Back in my room, before checking out, I had to pop a couple of caffeine tablets to make up the deficiency!
I was on the road just after 8am; I had a stretch target for the day, to cover 170km to Erfurt, a city with a main station where the long-distance trains stop. I had a pre-booked train reservation to Berlin at 19.30 and I had done the maths: 170km at my expected cruising speed of 22km/h works out at about 8hrs; factor in 2hrs of stops for rest/refreshment/photography en route; leaving at 08.00 should get me there at 18.00 with enough time for a nice dinner before catching the train, and/or a 90min buffer to cover unforeseen delays, punctures etc (not that I ever get those) and still catch that train. Easy peasy, especially with the wind forecast from the NW, which while initially more or less sideways to my route, should have given me a bit of a push along later in the day.
My motto to "always ignore road closures" was soon put to the test when my route took me through a short section of forest trail on the edge of town, only to find that the exit point to rejoin the road was blocked with a very substantial temporary fence.
Definitely no ignoring this one - there was no way through, and no diversion signage. Already conscious of the clock ticking, I checked the mapping on my phone and decided that I could "escape" by heading off at right angles to my route and finding another exit further along the edge of the forest. The whole episode probably cost me about 5 minutes, which doesn't sound like much, but you can't afford too many of those within a 2-hour stoppage allowance.
After that hold-up, I settled down into a reasonable rhythm and started to catch back up on the run rate, helped by some nice long straight sections where the route turned slightly more downwind. The first couple of hours of the ride were across open farmland on small roads and farm tracks, mainly of concrete slab construction - not the smoothest or fastest of surfaces, but well within the capabilities of my bike with its 42mm tubeless gravel tyres. Although there's no comparison with the spectacular scenery of the rides I used to go on when living in Switzerland, I encouraged myself to embrace the "micro-spectacles": a hare running along the track ahead of me; a deer standing in the edge of the field; the different coloured thistle flowers (blue, grey or purple); the butterflies and bees feeding on them; the silent menace of a bird of prey gliding along while looking intently down.
Descending from the ridge which the track had been following, into the first significant village I had transited for a while, I was optimistic of finding a bakery where I could buy something to augment my flask of coffee; but it turned out not to be that sort of village - so I contented myself with a muesli bar from my supply, eaten sitting at a bus stop, as it also wasn't the sort of village which had a pretty village green with a church and a bench! Never mind - there was sure to be a bakery, or even an actual café, in the small town a few kilometres further on.
2 hours into my ride and only 37km to the good, I was already quite well down on my run rate, and a smooth tarmac downhill section of road got me nicely launched to start catching up after my snack stop. I was soon scuppered again, though, when I had to take time to check the map and hunt around a bit for the next turning, which was on a gravel track running through a nature reserve formed in a reclaimed mining area. Though peaceful and traffic-free - my favourite kind of route planning, in fact - it wasn't going to help me get back on schedule to catch my train.
Reaching that "next small town", I decided I couldn't spare the time to detour via the centre to look for a café - still less to sit down and wait to be served with cake! - so on I pressed. The next part of my route traversed north-south through the famous Harz Mountains, a popular German tourist destination. My wife and I had not been there yet, partly because of our dislike of crowds, and partly because of the restrictions on tourist travel during the COVID-19 pandemic which prohibited us from travelling outside our home state. I'd planned this ride partly as a reconnaissance to see whether it would be worth planning a longer trip there together. (It was - and we did!)
My gateway to the Harz was the small town of Ermsleben; my worries about the crowds, and tourist traffic on the narrow roads, were soon dispelled. I found myself on a network of well-signposted, well-surfaced and almost deserted bike paths, and where I had to use the roads, they were almost deserted, too. A bit further on, in the picturesque village of Meisdorf, I stopped to eat my picnic lunch at a bench in the square right outside the Tourist Office, which was actually closed. The whole place had the air of a ghost town. I couldn't decide whether COVID was still keeping the tourists away, or the cool blustery weather, or the season hadn't really got going yet (it was still only July 9th), or whether everyone was congregated on the real Harz honeypots around the Brocken mountain, further to the west.
I bolted my lunch - it was 12 noon and I "only" had 110km to go, so catching my train was still on - and then set off again on the next roughstuff section of my ride, a gorgeous forest trail along a narrow valley beside the River Selke, deserted again apart from a cycling family coming in the opposite direction, with two children guiding their mini-mountainbikes very proficiently and ringing their bells in glee as they went along. I rang my bell back and exchanged big grins with the parent.
My next objective was the Falkenstein castle, poised overlooking this valley, and to reach it the route diverged from the valley floor up what the Komoot route planning app was adamant was a bike path. The signage on the ground was only for hiking, though. With my lightly loaded bike, insanely low gears and gravel-friendly tyres, I was in a position to take on the challenge - the path was narrow, with a loose dirt surface and gradients up to 20% according to the Strava logging - almost to the top, when a flight of steps came into view (!!) and I had to dismount; I uncleated one foot from the pedal, then hit a rock in the road which abruptly stopped the bike and toppled it to the opposite side. Before I could uncleat that foot too, I'd fallen right over into a bank of stinging nettles at the side of the path! (Better than the other way, which would have been down an almost-sheer slope.)
I picked myself up, verified that besides a few nettle stings and mud-smeared shorts there was no significant damage to either self or bike, then shouldered my bike up the steps and emerged, sweaty and bedraggled, onto the forecourt of the castle - to the bemusement of a group of visitors who had gathered to catch the tractor-hauled shuttle "train" back to the car park.
The castle was magnificent, but I certainly didn't have time to take even a quick tour inside, as I had originally planned. Now, if ever, was the time to push on to regain my schedule, and I was spurred by the tractor-train following me out along the castle access track, which was quite narrow and quite rough; I didn't want to be pushed into the edge if/when it overtook me! I felt like the duck in "Peter and the Wolf" as an uphill section slowed me down while the tractor rumbled up menacingly behind. Unlike the duck, I succeeded in getting clean away as the tractor turned into the car park to deliver its passengers. My turn of speed didn't last, though, as I turned off onto an even rougher field track, which was also slightly overgrown, so I couldn't blast along despite the gradient changing to downhill. This, indeed, was the pattern of the day: every time I seemed well set up to make up some time, something else intervened to slow me down!
Back onto tarmac, and still trending downhill, I did manage more speed (up to about 40km/h in places) over the next 10km to the village of Abberode, where my route took me down a minor road with a sign "road closed - no access to <name of some other village which I didn't recognise from my route planning>". Dilemma: do I spend precious time now, looking up on the map where that village is in relation to my route and plotting a diversion? Or do I press on and risk spending time later having to retrace my route? My "always ignore road closures" rule was made for just this situation - ever since the time I did indeed take a lengthy detour, only to come out just downstream of the road closure and find other cyclists happily going straight through! So on I went, down a glorious little lane winding its way down into a tranquil green valley - until I got to the bridge crossing the river - which was being rebuilt and was very firmly barricaded (photo at the top of this article). With a house on the riverbank to one side of the bridge, and a thick barrier of trees and bushes to the other, I couldn't have gained access to the river even if I'd been brave enough to try fording it. I pulled out my phone to look at the map and find a diversion.
At that moment somebody came out of the adjacent house, saw me, and came to the gate to tell me that there was another bridge 1km up the valley which I could use. I thanked him and retraced my route, then forked off on a smaller track following the valley floor instead of going back up the hill. A short distance further along there was indeed a turning which led to another bridge; on the far side of the bridge it seemed to lead straight into the courtyard of somebody's house, with a prominent "no vehicles" circular sign. What to do? I didn't feel comfortable blundering onto someone's private space like that. Another stroke of luck: some people came out of the house chatting, so I boldly went down to the bridge and called to them, explaining that the neighbour had said it was ok to come this way, may I use their bridge please? "Of course!" came the unexpectedly friendly response, "Come on through! Have a great ride!" The house was a picturesque old mill building, with the track zig-zagging through their yard and round the corner to a second bridge over the mill stream, where some of the mill machinery was still in place. I didn't intrude further on their privacy by taking photos, though.
As I continued up the track through woodland on the other side of the valley - a really lovely, peaceful spot - it started to rain. I propped my bike under a tree to put on my rain jacket, have a little rest, and take stock of my situation while snacking on an energy bar. I had used up all my 2 hours of "stoppage time" allowance and was into my 90mins reserve, and I was still less than halfway to my destination. Although I was near the highest point of my route and would be predominantly downhill from here on, I was getting tired, the predicted tailwind hadn't materialised, and I didn't see much realistic prospect of increasing the pace. Plus, I would stop enjoying the ride if I really forced myself. On the other hand, my bargain train ticket was tied to a specific train, as was the bike reservation, so if I missed it I'd have to write off the cost and buy a fresh ticket, quite likely along with an overnight stay in Erfurt if there wasn't a later evening train I could get my bike onto.
All things considered, I decided to embrace the enjoyment of the ride, and let sorting out my logistics wait until I eventually got to Erfurt. I savoured the long descent into the next valley on a lovely, easily rideable forest track. I spotted a big stand of wild raspberries at the roadside and stopped to feast on them, just as the sun came out again and I was able to shed my rain jacket. Later, passing through a small town, I went into a supermarket to buy an ice cream (along with a big bottle of chilled water) and sat on a wall in the sunshine to enjoy it.
In one of the valleys, I found myself crossing a railway line next to a tiny halt, and wondered if there was any chance of catching a connecting train to Erfurt. I stopped to read the timetable posted by the passenger shelter, but found that the route from there didn't go anywhere near Erfurt, and there wasn't a train due for ages anyway.
I encountered a couple more road closures, too! At another, larger railway line, the level crossing was permanently closed - obviously not enough traffic using this minor road to warrant the cost of maintaining it - but luckily not so barricaded that I couldn't get through. And there was a very firmly closed footbridge over another river, which luckily wasn't part of my route, although it easily might have been.
With the afternoon drawing on, I wended my way out of the Harz hills and into the sun-drenched agricultural plain to the south. I lingered in the quaint village of Reinsdorf to photograph the village green and the antique cobblestone road surface. With 40km to go and under 2 hours until my train, I acknowledged that my chances of catching it had well and truly vanished; but at least I was enjoying myself again!
Then my route took me over yet another level crossing and down a bike path parallel to the railway, where I noticed a small, well-maintained station on the opposite side and I wondered ... just wondered ...
Getting out my phone, I checked the connections from Heldrungen (that being the name of the station), and miracle of miracles! A train was due in 20 minutes and it went to Erfurt! Just a comfortable amount of time to get back to the level crossing, across and down the other side to the station, and buy a ticket. And: get busy on my phone again to locate a pizzeria near Erfurt main station, and order a takeaway to coincide with the time I'd get there!
Click for video map animation of the ride
The day was saved! Sustaining supper, caught the pre-booked train, easy bike ride home from Berlin to Potsdam.
The cherry on the cake was being able to help a refugee family who flagged me down at a Berlin bus stop at 11pm, having been put on a bus with just the address of the reception centre scribbled on the back of a business card, and not a word of either German or English between them. I quickly concluded that the best option was for me to walk them there myself - it was about 20mins away and not an easy route to explain. Cub Scout's good turn done for the day! I just wished I still had some of that pizza to share with them!
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