Sunday, September 27

From	To	Distance (km)	Average Speed (km/hr)	Max Speed (km/hr)	Odometer (km)	Riding Time (hr:min:sec)	Push-Ups
Pflach, Austria	Neusäß, Germany	126.51	20.3	42.7	1225	6:12:34	200

(3335 words)

Discovering Neuschwanstein

This morning at breakfast, as Matt and I were eating the usual German breakfast ingredients of brötchen, jam, and slices of cheese and cold cuts, I overheard a man at the table next to us ask if it were possible to get an egg. My ears perked up because it had never occured to me to ask for something that wasn't served to me, since the breakfasts at Gasthoffs are included in the price of the room. As I sipped my tea, I observed the response, which was "naturally," A few minutes later, the egg appeared. Matt and I agreed we should try this ourselves in the future.

After breakfast, we packed our panniers and carried them down to the bicycles. As Matt was hanging his panniers on his bike, he discovered that a hook on his right rear pannier had broken off. I loaned him my two blue bungee chords so he could fasten the pannier to his bike. We got out on the road at 8:45 AM.

In the middle of the previous night, I had awakened on one occasion to the sound of rain. By the time we got up at 7:00, the rain had stopped. As we started riding from our Gasthoff in Pflach, I noticed that the rain had beautified our surroundings. Everything had a deeper hue due to being wet. White, gray, and blue clouds of various shapes and textures partially covered the dark mountains to our right and left and floated overhead among patches of blue sky. Occasionally, morning sunlight found its way through the clouds and illuminated the deep green of the wet fields and trees in the valley through which we were riding.

We followed the 200 road from Pflach to Fussen, then turned right on the 17. Before long we crossed the border back into Germany. As we rode, the mountains surrounding us became progressively smaller and eventually turned into hills. Our route was mostly downhill, but also included some mild uphills. The downhill grades were slight, but gave us an extra boost as we pedaled. We rode vigorously and made good progress.

Because we were concerned about getting to Rothenburg ob der Tauber by Thursday, we were serious about making progress. One important factor to making good progress is simply being able ride continuously in the right direction. When you have to stop often to consult a map, to find your way back to a poorly-marked bike path, to correct for a misturn, or to ask people for directions, your progress suffers. Fortunately for our progress, the roads we were riding on were easy to follow. Unfortunately for our safety, however, those roads carried a fair amount of traffic. So whenever a bike path appeared on one side of the road or other, we took the path to put some distance between us and the cars.

As we entered Schwangau, we were seduced by a paved bike path paralleling the main road a couple of meters to the right. The promise of increased safety called out to us, and we answered. We cut across the grass to ride on the bike path. Unluckily, this bike path gradually took us south-east of the main road, a detour that threatened to hinder our progress. We tried to keep ourselves parallel to the main road from a distance, but eventually the layout of the roads and paths forced us to choose between backtracking to the main road and finding our way through some neighborhoods. Given our deep religious conviction against backtracking, we pressed onwards and zig-zagged through the neighborhoods until we emerged into some open fields. Off in the distance to our left, we could once again see the traffic moving down the main road. We headed down a paved bicycle/farm vehicle path that angled across the field in a direction that would eventually intersect the main road.

It was as we were riding along this path through the field that I happened to look over to my right, where the sun was coming up from behind a mountain, and recognized the distinct shape of Neuschwanstein.

Neuschwanstein is one of three castles built by King Ludwig II, the last king of Bavaria. I had visited this castle in the winter of 1987, when I was studying German at the Goethe Institute in Murnau, a small town south of Munich. The Goethe Institute had organized a one-day castle tour for the students, and drove us by bus to two of Ludwig's castles, Neuschwanstein and Linderhof.

Sitting on the bus back in 1987, I was more interested in the girl next to me than in keeping track of where the bus was going, so I didn't get a good idea of exactly where the castles we visited were located. And although the map currently in my handlebar bag identified Neuschwanstein in tiny italic print, I hadn't noticed it. Thus, when I looked over to my right and saw a building in shadows, its shape silhouetted against the dark mountain behind it, I was surprised. Human brains are very good at recognizing shapes, and in this shape my brain recognized Neuschwanstein, the castle I had visited eleven years earlier. My brain also recognized irony in my sense of disappointment over the bike path that had promised safety but, by leading us away from the main road, had hindered our progress. Had we not allowed ourselves to be seduced by this bike path, we would not have passed as close to the castle and may not even have noticed it.

"Hey, that's Neuschwanstein!" I said to Matt, who had never heard of Neuschwanstein before. I described the castle and a bit of its history to him as we rode along, and because he'd never been there, told him I would be willing to ride over with him for a closer look. He declined, saying that he'd rather make progress. Sometimes, he said, it's nice just to look at something from a distance. I was glad, because I was also more interested in making progress today. We kept riding until we got to a bend in the path. Here, where it appeared we would be closest to the castle, we stopped for a few minutes to look and take pictures. Then we rode on.

Navigating through Augsburg

We followed 17, the "Romantic Road," all the way up through Schongau. A few kilometers past Schongau, we came to the small town of Hohenfurch, where we stopped for lunch. The restaurant in Hohenfurch had no spaghetti on the menu, so I ordered a more German dish: Schweinbraten and gravy with German potato salad and a Semmelknödel, a large round noodle about half the size of a tennis ball. The meal was delicious, and good fuel for a day of hard riding.

After lunch Matt and I decided to ride all the way to Augsburg, where we planned to hunt for an internet café before looking for a Gasthof. This was an ambitious plan because by our calculations we still needed to ride 62 kilometers to get to Augsburg, which would give us a total of 118 kilometers for the day.

We followed the Romantic Road all the way to Augsburg, arriving in the late afternoon. In the outskirts of the city, we stopped at a phone booth and checked the yellow pages for an internet café, but found nothing. While waiting at a stop light near the center of town, I asked a man and woman on bicycles if there were an internet café in Augsburg. They said there used to be one, but that it no longer existed. Matt and I decided against searching further for an internet café in Augsburg, because even if we found one, we wouldn't have much time to work. Instead, we decided to ride until my cyclometer read 120 kilometers, then start looking for a Gasthoff.

We navigated through the center of Augsburg primarily by compass, because the street signs and road signs were difficult to follow. To navigate more deliberately through a city, you need a city map. With a city map, however, you usually have to stop often to orient yourself to the map. Traveling by compass requires no city map and no orientation stops, and usually gets you to through the city successfully. On the northern side of Augsburg, my odometer clicked over to 120 kilometers, and Matt and I began looking out for a place to stay.

Shortly after we started our search, a purple hot-air balloon took off from a field a few blocks to our right and passed overhead. I stopped and watched it go over. Just up the street, we found a hotel. Figuring the purple balloon might be a sign that Matt and I should stay at this hotel, I went inside. The lady behind the counter told me that the room would cost 165 DM (expensive) and that they would need about 20 minutes to prepare the room. I returned outside to inform Matt of the particulars, and we decided to roll onwards. We figured there was no sense in standing around for 20 minutes. We may as well ride those 20 minutes and find a place to stay up the road.

I went back inside to inform the lady that we wouldn't be taking the room. The lady was no longer behind the counter, but soon a door opened and she emerged into the hallway carrying an infant in her arms. Upon hearing the news that Matt and I would be rolling onwards, she told me, "Alles ist in Ordnung," (Everything is in order). I figured that was the German way of saying, "That's okay."

I peered at the baby, which was sleeping in her arms. It was tiny and absolutely beautiful.

"How old is it?" I asked the woman.

"Five days," she replied.

"What's its name?"

"It doesn't have a name yet."

"It's beautiful," I said. I started to tell her that this was the first time I'd met a German who wasn't able to speak German better than me, but I stumbled. The German words failed me and I couldn't finish the sentence. So I just said thank you and goodbye and walked back outside.

Matt and I continued winding our way out of Augsburg, navigating by compass and intuition, until we reached the town of Neusäß. As I first saw the name of this town on a sign, I chuckled to myself. Occasionally words in a foreign language sound remotely like something in English. I commented to Matt that the German pronunciation of this town's name (noys-ass) sounds like someone with a New York City accent saying "nice ass". Matt and I were certainly glad to see Neusäß, because in this town we found a decent place to stay for 75 DM.

When I pulled my bike up to the garage where we would store it for the night, my cyclometer indicated we had ridden over 126 kilometers since we left the Gasthoff in Pflach, Austria this morning. Today's ride was the longest single day on the entire trip. Once we got off to a good start, we decided we would try and see how much we could do. I felt worn out, but happy that we had accomplished 126 kilometers.

Crying over Spilled Nuts

Once we got up to our room, Matt and I quickly sat down at a table in the corner to eat dinner. Because we had taken our lunch in a restaurant, we had once again decided to have a dinner of groceries. In Germany, all grocery stores are closed on Sunday, so Matt and I had shopped for our dinner in the small indoor mart of a gas station. The gas station didn't have fruit or real yogurts, but they did have a yogurt based drink. Our dinner consisted of this yogurt drink poured into a bowl along with some muesli, and stolen-from-breakfast jam spread onto stolen-from-breakfast brötchen. This simple meal tasted good after so much exercise.

After we had finished eating and were cleaning up and organizing, we heard a loud commotion outside. Matt walked over to the window and looked out.

"What is it?" I asked Matt, as I continued organizing the bags on my bed.

"Some kid," Matt said, "He's spilled his nuts and is crying like it's the end of the world."

I walked over to the window and looked out. There on the sidewalk below us, a boy of about eight was sitting on the ground next to his bicycle, crying like crazy. He had apparently been transporting a plastic bag full of buckeyes -- I figured he had probably collected the buckeyes himself -- and the bag had dropped and burst open. Buckeyes had gone all over the sidewalk. Some had rolled out into the street and had gotten squished by passing cars. He was extremely distraught, as if his whole entire world had collapsed.

We were up on the second floor of the Gasthoff, so we had a good view of the accident scene. We watched as the boy picked up the bag, crying, and investigated the big hole in it. His sobbing relaxed somewhat as he he scooped up some buckeyes and placed them experimentally into the top of the bag. But the buckeyes dropped through the bag and out the big hole in the bottom, landing once again on the sidewalk. The boy threw the bag angrily to to the ground and wailed.

Matt and I felt bad for the poor child. He had no way of solving the problem because he didn't have a bag in which to put his buckeyes. And although he occasionally seemed to be talking, through his wailing, to some people we couldn't see from our vantage point, no one came to help him. Matt and I decided we would offer the boy one of our plastic bags and help him pick up his buckeyes.

Matt selected one of his finest plastic bags to give to the boy. I tried to open a window so we could inform the boy we were coming down, but unfortunately all the windows were jammed closed. So we just put on our shoes and went downstairs.

When we emerged onto the sidewalk, however, the boy was gone. We looked to our right just in time to see him speeding away on his bike. His buckeyes were still laying on the ground, and now some other kids were surrounding them. Matt and I approached this new group of children. The oldest of this group was a boy in a red T-shirt about ten years of age.

"Hi," I said to the boy in the red T-shirt, who seemed to me to be the leader of the group. "Where did the other boy go?"

"He went to get a new bag," replied the leader.

"Is he your brother?" I asked.

"No, he's someone else," was the obscure reply.

"Well, we wanted to give him this bag." I pointed to the bag, which Matt held up for the leader to see. The leader nodded.

"Would you give it to him when he returns?" I asked the leader.

"Okay."

Matt handed the bag to the leader in the red T-shirt.

"Thanks," we said.

The leader shrugged and walked away.

Matt and I turned and walked up the sidewalk, in the direction of a café we had spotted from our upstairs window in the Gasthoff. About a block away, as Matt and I were waiting on a corner for a stoplight to change, the boy who had originally spilled the buckeyes sped past us on his bike. In his hand he carried a brand new plastic bag.

The boy on the bike didn't notice us standing there on the corner. His whole being was focused on his buckeyes. As he passed us, he said to himself, "They were supposed to wait!" Matt and I looked up the street to the scene of the buckeye incident, and noted that the children who had been hovering around the buckeyes had disappeared.

We then realized that the boy had probably asked the other children to guard his buckeyes while he went for a new bag. He was now finding out that the other children couldn't be trusted, because they had not waited for him to return. The question on our minds, of course, was: What the heck happened to Matt's bag?

The light changed and Matt and I crossed the street and sat down at the café. From where we sat, we could see that the boy had returned to his spilled buckeyes and was scooping them into his new bag. Shortly thereafter, the older boy in the red T-shirt reappeared on the scene, but without Matt's bag. He didn't help the younger boy pick up his buckeyes, though before long three blonde-headed little girls appeared and began to help scoop. Matt and I commented that perhaps the whole episode was the younger boy's scam to meet girls.

Once he had collected all his buckeyes, the boy got on his bike and rode away, leaving the three blondes behind on the sidewalk. (At his age, I suppose buckeyes look a lot better than girls.) As he arrived at the corner across from us, we looked but saw no sign of Matt's bag. We suspected that the older boy in the red T-shirt hadn't told this boy about Matt's fine bag, so he could keep it for himself.

After looking through the menu, Matt and I decided against ordering anything at the café where we were sitting. We got up and walked to the corner, where we once again had to wait for the light to change. I then noticed that on the opposite corner the boy in the red T-shirt was standing with his entourage of younger children. They were waiting for the light to change so they could cross to our corner. In his hands, the boy in the red T-shirt held a plastic bag so full of buckeyes it appeared it was about to burst. Matt and I couldn't help but notice that it was not Matt's bag. Indeed, a thorough visual inspection of the group waiting on the opposite corner yielded no sign whatsoever of Matt's bag.

The light changed. Matt and I started across the street towards the group, and they started across towards us. I expected that as we all passed each other in the center of the street, the boy in the red T-shirt would say something to us about the fate of Matt's bag, but he just completely ignored us. He had a bag full of buckeyes, and we didn't. In fact, we didn't even have a bag. We weren't worth the time of day.

Matt and I walked back to the Gasthoff, but before going inside, decided to inspect the area of the buckeye incident in search of clues as to the whereabouts of Matt's bag. On one side of the Gasthoff that had not been visible from our room, we discovered a large tree from which the children had probably been harvesting their buckeyes. On the ground beneath this tree, we found Matt's bag discarded and forgotten. Matt picked up his bag and brushed off the dirt. We shook our heads and, muttering something about young people today, went back inside the Gasthoff.

Matt and I sat down at a table downstairs in the Gasthoff, where Matt ordered a Hefeweizen beer and I ordered a cup of coffee. As I sipped my coffee and nibbled on two Prinz Rolle cookies I had brought from the room, I wrote notes in my journal. Today had been election day in Germany, and everyone else's eyes in the room were focused on the election results coming in on the television. It was here that we learned that Helmut Kohl, who had been chancellor for 17 years, had lost the election to Gerhard Schroeder. The people on the TV kept saying that, "The Kohl era has come to an end."