Tuesday, September 22

From	To	Distance (km)	Average Speed (km/hr)	Max Speed (km/hr)	Odometer (km)	Riding Time (hr:min:sec)	Push-Ups
Freiburg, Germany	Feldberg, Germany	45.47	9.1	65.5	746	4:58:45	200

(1748 words)

Upwards in the Black Forest

Wow, what a ride today! Our route, which took us up near the highest point in the Black Forest, was one of the most beautiful I've been on. It was just the kind of ride I wanted when I decided to aim for the Alps on this trip -- lots of climbing in beautiful mountainous scenery. Prior to today, I had no idea that the Black Forest had this much to offer, so today's ride was an unexpected pleasure.

We began the day by following a bike path along the Driesam, a brook that flows down into Freiburg from the west. The Driesam valley was very beautiful. The brook was full of waterfalls, and the surrounding valley a mosaic of hills, fields, and forests. We were riding east along the Driesam, upstream and uphill. The incline was slight on the way to Kirchzarten, where we stopped for a lunch of groceries. After Kirchzarten, the bike path became more steep. When we got to the town of Oberried, we left the Driesam bike path and headed up the road towards Zastler and Feldberg.

After leaving Oberried, the road became very steep and stayed steep for about the next 10 km. We slowly wound our way up through a forest on a steep paved road to the Feldberg Nature Preserve. In this preserve, we discovered a network of hiking trails, many of which are wide enough for bikes. When we ran out of paved road, we turned right onto a very rocky road that took us to the Zastler Hütte, which bore a sign stating the altitude at 1262 meters. I wasn't sure what a "Hütte" was, but the Zastler Hütte looked to me like a place hikers could get a bite to eat and possibly spend the night. As the Zastler Hütte appeared to be closed, Matt and I continued onwards and upwards.

From Zastler Hütte, we took the right hand fork in the road that promised to take us to the "Wilhelmer Hütte." Shortly before we arrived at Wilhelmer, we emerged from the forest into some pastures filled with grazing cows. By this point we were up in the clouds. The cold wind, the fog, and the clanking of cow bells filled my senses as I rode along the path.

Communicating at the Wilhelmer Hütte

As I pulled up to the Wilhelmer Hütte, I was met by a small menagerie of sheep, goats, pigs, and dogs, which were loitering in the middle of the road in front of the Hütte. After carefully navigating through the farm animals, I pulled up to the Hütte and leaned my bike against a picnic bench. On the wall near my bike I noticed a thermometer that read 8° C.

While waiting for Matt to arrive, I surveyed the yard in front of the Hütte. At one end of the yard I saw two little girls, around nine or ten years old, running around chattering non-stop and playing. Nearby was an old man, dressed like a farmer, who seemed to be working. I was beginning to wonder where Matt and I would spend the night, so I decided to ask the farmer if it were possible to spend the night at this "Hütte." As he passed I said excuse me. He gave me a sour look as I asked him in my best high German whether one could spend the night there. He replied in a thick dialect something like, "We only have three 'Lachen'." Not understanding his meaning, I said, "Three Lachen?" He then yelled, "La...ge!" at me, gave me one last sour look, and walked away. I still had no idea what he was talking about.

Matt pulled up shortly thereafter, dismounted, and leaned his bike up against mine. Unluckily, the addition of Matt's bike proved too much for the picnic table bench against which I had leaned my bike. As the two little girls and I watched, Matt's bike, my bike, and the picnic bench all fell over into a big pile next to Matt. Amazingly, this event actually caused a momentary pause in the little girls' otherwise non-stop conversation. After moving our bikes to a more stable place, locking them, and uprighting the picnic bench, we went inside the Hütte.

Inside I was met by a stern woman who took my order of two coffees. I decided to try asking this woman questions about where we could spend the night. Although she answered me, she seemed to be busy and gave me the feeling that I was bothering her. Part of the problem, I later realized, was that I was asking some dumb questions.

At one point I asked her how to get to the "Gistel." She replied that she'd never heard of the Gistel. I said we'd met a lady on the path who told us that the Gistel was the highest point around here. The woman replied, "No, Feldberg is the highest point." This surprised me, because although I realized I was probably not saying the exact name told to me by the lady on the path, I figured "Gistel" was close enough to the correct name that the woman at the Hütte would at least recognize the mountain I was talking about.

It wasn't until the next morning that I solved the mystery behind this misunderstanding, which is a good example of the kind of miscommunication that often happens when you are learning a new language. At breakfast on Wednesday (one day after my visit to Wilhelmer Hütte), I got the inspiration to look up "summit" in my English/German dictionary. Sure enough, the German equivalent was "Gipfel." The lady on the path had said something like, "...and from there you can turn left and go up to the Gipfel, which is the highest point." At the time, I interpreted "Gipfel" as the name of a mountain, but it was really just the German word for summit. The name of the mountain, as the woman in the Hütte later correctly told me, was Feldberg. By the time I reached the Wilhelmer Hütte, my memory had transformed "Gipfel" into "Gistel." And my newly invented word wasn't close enough to the real one to enable the woman at the Hütte to decipher what I was talking about.

Eventually I gave up trying to get information from the Wilhelmer Hütte about where we might find a place to stay for the night. I sat down at a table across from Matt and began to drink my coffee. It was so cold outside that the coffee tasted good.

As Matt and I sat drinking our coffees, the two little girls came in and babbled with each other and with the stern woman, who seemed to be the mother of one of the girls. After the girls wandered back outside and the woman retreated to the kitchen, a dog appeared. Dogs are a common sight in German restaurants, and this dog, which somewhat resembled a German shepard, seemed nice enough. The dog walked under our table wagging his tail and came up to Matt, who said hi to him and petted him a bit. For some reason, I suddenly got paranoid that this dog was going to come over to my side of the table and say hello to me by sticking his nose in my crotch. I shifted in my seat and closed my legs together to prevent such an unpleasant greeting, but soon relaxed my guard and let my knees part a few inches. Apparently this dog saw his chance, because a few seconds later he came over and began to stick his snout between my knees.

The feel of his wet nose sliding against my skin startled me, and I had the unfortunate, involuntary reaction of snapping my knees together. The result was that I somewhat violently slammed the poor dog's snout between my knees. The dog pulled his nose away and scampered under the table behind me.

I felt bad and wanted to befriend this dog so he'd know the snout crunch was a mistake. But every time he sheepishly emerged out from under the table behind me and saw my hand extended to him in friendship, he cowered back under the table in fear. The third time he went back under the table, I noticed he lifted his leg and made a small puddle on the floor. Shortly thereafter, Matt and I got up an left. I was beginning to feel I was destined to have communications problems with everyone at the Wilhelmer Hütte, including the animals.

Downhill in the Wrong Direction

After hastily exiting the Wilhelmer Hütte, Matt and I climbed on our bikes and continued down the path. Before long we came upon an older couple who were hiking. This couple suggested we stay in Feldberg the town (as opposed to Feldberg the mountain) and told us how to get there. We followed their directions as far as the Todtnauer Hütte, where we mistakenly turned right instead of left. Although this mistake sent us in the wrong direction, it was a great ride. We rolled downhill on a smooth, paved road (wide enough for about 1.5 cars), which gently curved left and right through a forest. The downhill grade was just right for bicycles, and the speed was exhiliarating.

Eventually our nice downhill road emptied out onto a main highway (Bundestrasse #317). Here, we once again went in the wrong direction and continued rolling downhill, even faster this time, until we reached the town of Fahl. On this stretch of road I achieved a speed of 65.5 km/hr. When we reached Fahl, we stopped and looked at the map and realized our mistake. We turned around and headed back up the hill until we reached the town of Feldberg, where we found a Gasthof. On the way up this last hill to the town of Feldberg, it was cold enough that I could see my breath when I exhaled.

You can tell that I was in hilly country today, because I ended up with a low average speed and high maximum speed. In fact, today's average speed (9.1 km/hr) was the lowest of the entire trip, and the maximum speed (65.5 km/hr) was the highest of the trip. Even though I only advanced my odometer by 45 kilometers, I spent almost five hours pedaling the bicycle, most of that uphill. Today was an example of the kind of day I look for on a bike tour -- a day of dry weather, strenuous climbing, speedy downhills, and beautiful scenery.