Lake Constance to Memmingen
There was no getting away from the sense that the tour was coming to an end. Sure, almost half of today’s distance would be around the lake. But once I left its shoreline it was a straight, if somewhat lumpy, run across Germany towards Munich with 1 overnight stop to break up the distance. Another sign the destination was now close was how frequently I was messaging with Christoper and Benjamin on arrival times and plans beyond. Plus one more tip from Benjamin on a regional speciality to try tonight in the town I would be staying in: käspatzn. This part is always a messy jumble of feelings: happiness that a tour so long in the planning had worked out so well; sadness that a tour so long in the planning was almost over. At least I had a few days in Munich to slow down the decompression a little. First though, with absolutely no rush now, a proper hotel breakfast.
And what a breakfast it was – once I finally got there, after an obligatory chat with the caretake who was sweeping up in the yard, and very curious on my bike maintenance routine (tyres, chains, checking everything was tight. Standard stuff, but a source of diversion from his every day routine and a chance for conversation. In my memory now, this part was longer than it took me to wolf down juice, multiple cups of coffee, cold meats, cheeses, and lovely crisp brötchen. Perhaps what makes the actual meal stick in mind less was what followed whilst settling up the bill with the owner. I asked him why he’d stop doing evening meals, since he was clearly still had passion and skills for catering. I’d expected the response that trade post covid was too low, but instead he explained it was his age – which it turned out he hid very well. I forget now if he was 80, or some way beyond that, but he barely looked older than me. He then delivered a fascinating private tour on the history of the building.
On stairs leading down to a basement was an original suit of armour from the region. The main building above dated from 1780. This basement below went back another 500 years to 1214 (I only remember these numbers because he wrote them on my bill). And all of the heavy timbers and beams of the basement were original except one, which he pointed out to me. They hadn’t just served evening meals here – they had done large medieval banquets, prepared over an enormous wood hearth with massive bellows which he proudly showed me. It was truly magnificent – none of your usual Corporate show banquets that always ended in a food fight. This was the real deal – in the real surroundings. And this man, was the last in the line – it was impossible not to be a little sad as well as impressed was he explained all of this.
As I rode out I couldn’t help taking side by side pictures of the hotel and the modern block next door. I wondered how long before his piece of history also got swallowed up and flattened by a developer looking to squeeze more out of the already limited prime real estate around the lake. I’m sure it was a protected building, but it’s amazing how often they succumb to an “accidental fire” right around the time they become available for sale. Or maybe I’m just a cynic.
Münsterlingen – 07:30
It’s tempting here to skip ahead and just describe the early part of the morning as lovely lakeside riding with few really memorable parts. And some of that would be true. But it wasn’t devoid of memories either. Sure, it was slow steady progress – mostly just flowing easily along cycle paths, crossing the railway several times, and twisting around housing estates and factories. The morning air was so fresh and crisp as to almost feel like it burnt your lungs slightly when you breathed it in. A soft mist hung over the water as the sun, not yet at full power, rose gently above it. Specific details may not have stuck much in mind, but overall it was memorable in the general sense.
In a few places the path wasn’t always obvious – others I had to find my way around roadworks. So there’s a couple of odd double backs in my track log. In Romanshorn, I rolled through the arrivals area of a large station, with many buses dropping off passengers and an expanse of tracks beyond. There’s a vague memory of seeing a cyclist here who’d passed me earlier – his club kit and sleek bike being very recognisable. When he passed me previously it was with a sort of annoyed “good morning”, having sat behind me for a while waiting for space to pass. This time, he was almost apologetic – explaining he’d gone wrong and missed a turn (presumably to mitigate any chance I would think he’d been slower than me). I almost remember a shocked look on his face when on enquiring about my accent he learned I’d cycled here from the UK. Perhaps that’s just imagination on my part now.
Another part, which I knew was coming, proved less nasty in reality than it had seemed on streetview. Alongside a massive rail yard, I follow the exit from a busy road up and over the tracks and onto side streets around this part of the lake (there was no public waterfront cycle path here). Once through this section, a level crossing carried me back over the railway and down to the water again – albeit briefly. Something I had not expected, was to find myself working my way around a small regional airport. How on earth had I forgotten that part – the cycle path literally past the end of the runway before going through the warehouse zone that served the airport. I could have booked a car rental right there if I’d needed one. And just beyond here, I came to the Rhein again – which I knew I’d be following away from the lack back inland again before being able to cross it. It was pleasant cycle path riding along the water and under the shade of trees. Although, being super critical for a moment there was a faint whiff of shit. I guess with such limited flat ground around the lake and so many people, sewage farms have to be fitted in somewhere. Luckily it was neither pungent or for that long. The bridged I needed came up after just a few kilometres.
Something else arrived too, which nobody expects on a ride through Switzerland into Germany – Austria!
Austria – 09:30
WTF
How on earth did I miss that Austria also had a small sliver of lake front property. It was almost as if when this part of the map got carved up, everyone got a piece. Austria’s piece had been sufficiently small though that I had not taken notice of it during route planning. The surprise from seeing the border sign had barely subsided before my phone pinged with a message from Nico saying much the same thing: another country for breakfast. I was starting to feel a need for coffee at least, and definitely a pee which makes me wonder now why I rode past so many places which look promising now on the map. Maybe the caffeine craving hadn’t fully hit – or maybe they were closed. Or perhaps I just wasn’t really looking properly.
Here’s another odd trick of the memory too. In my mind, I thought that I rode down one side of the long river/canal that fed the lake, crossed it, and then went back up the other to the waterside again. In fact, the “back up” part was a totally different navigation which I only came to after winding around for about 8km. The first narrower channel, it seems, was the Alter Rhein (old rhine). After bowling along the Austrian bank of that for a while, I came to the other waterway, which is marked as the Rhine River. That was the part I would follow back to the lake. Or, if I’d really wanted to follow the Rhein to its source, I could have turned the other way and slogged up to Andermatt. Sure, it was perhaps only another 60km or so – but all of it was up into proper Alpine mountains. That would have to wait until I found the legs and desire for that kind of terrain. Plus the idea of starting in Andermatt and freewheeling back to here seemed way more appealing. For now though, a flat spin back to the lakeside was the order of the day.
The crossing, just before the lake, was on the cycle way of a modern bridge, with a loop of path to get up and onto it. The bridge rose over two smaller waterways as well, before dropping me alongside the second of them. It’s marked as Dornbircher Ach on the map, although at the time it just felt like a small canal alongside the more major Rhein navigation. A little further on, at waters edge again, the route swung through what looks like an urban area on the map, but what I remember is mostly a pleasant leafy greenway on the edge of a suburb. What the suburb did offer though was a lovely spot for a break – which I almost missed. Only once I’d gone past the sign by a few meters did I look back and see a lovely looking little café just down off the bank the path was travelling along.
Gasthof Waldheim, Hard – 10:15
Looking now I see the name of the road was Unterer Achdam – which feels about right. The shady patio of the café did feel like it was tucked below the banks of a dam. More importantly was that it had excellent coffee (2 cups in fact) and cake, and a loo which by now had become a rather strong need. But the cake is what I’ll remember most – that and the fact that despite being a perfect spot, with excellent cuisine, was deserted apart from me. Two other cyclists looked in whilst I was there but opted not to stop. Ordinarily, I might have wondered if my odour was too strong for them, but I’d been extremely diligent with my laundry routine every night on this trip. As hot as it was again today, I doubted I smelt much worse than any other rider out for a day on the bike. It’s interesting to see now that despite it still being early, I was already a third of the way into the riding for the day. But with this heat, and the flat terrain around the lake almost done, I knew the rest of the day would not be nearly so easy or pass so quickly.
Superficially, the lake front on the Austrian side looked much like that behind me in Switzerland. There were subtle differences – the trains which passed me had different logos on them for one. And, if anything, once I’d looped through some pleasant parks soon after my coffee stop the buildings seemed to crowd in on the lake shore to a greater extent. Through and beyond Bregenz, there was also a slight sense of a party vibe – one long pier had what seemed to be one or more clubs on it, and the lakefront was dotted with what appeared to be private jetties and beaches. Although to be fair, I was whizzing along and may have got the wrong impression – they may have been open to the public as well.
I’d barely settled into my riding again though before the lakeside part suddenly came to an end. Instead of crossing a small bridge over a side stream, my track veered right and followed the tributary away from the lake. There are no borders in Europe any more, but the area of motorway my track skirted around had a feeling of one – high fences, large parking lots. It was only once I was part way around that I realised it was just a service area, albeit one that maybe had been repurposed from the days when borders still existed. It’s always quite an odd feeling to be noodling along slowly on a bike whilst all around you are lanes of fast moving cars. It didn’t last long though, once around and under all the various carriageway I was ejected back out into villages and countryside again. The river I had followed up from the lake turned out to be the border, although there was no real sign announcing my arrival back in Germany for the final time once across it. All that remained from here was a jaunt across rolling Bavarian countryside – once I’d hauled myself up and over the hills around the lake. Thankfully, heading eastward, these were not nearly as high or steep as those directly south or north of the lake. My little winding route up the Rhein, around the lake, and out to here had successfully skirted me around the lumpiest bits of terrain.
The first leg, along and eventually away from the little river, was pretty much all uphill – although rarely steep, only occasionally nudging into double digits. Even with the heat and humidity it was a pleasant 15km or so, which also carried me up much of the elevation to the higher ground beyond. Long before reaching it I could see I was heading in to one of the larger towns I would pass through during the day.
Wangen im Allgäu – 12:36
Had my coffee stop not been so recent I would probably have stopped in for food – probably should have in fact. But in the full heat of midday all I really wanted was juice and water. The little cobbled market street was too inviting to simply grab this at a service station, so I rolled in to grab some photos and supplies at one of the quaint shops. I didn’t spend linger though – even in the shade of one of the buildings, the market square was roasting. So I rolled back out as soon as the bottles were filled and the juice downed.
I knew that the last of the significant uphill for the day would hit me soon after the town. And to be honest, I wasn’t totally sure the legs had it in them. It wasn’t especially high, or long, but a middle chunk of gradient was well into double figures. The lesser just started to pick up as the lane I was on approached and went under the motorway. Beyond that it just pitched straight up into the main event. I stood and slogged on, feeling trapped inside a boiling, airless bubble as I did so. But the mind and body kept going. The road ahead widened and arced right, and with that the gradient slackened and the work was done. There were plenty of little uphills before the end of the day, but this was the last of the chunky ones done.
Beyond was a delightful maze of small farm lanes and gravel tracks snaking across a tapestry of a thousand shades green – fields, hedges, woodlands. Rolling along these, through small farms, and across vast expanses of crops was delightful. On NC4K I had loved the descent from the Austria down to Munich and out across the countryside, and I was immediately surrounded by the sense of calm and peace again as I ambled along just soaking it all in with nothing particular to distract my thoughts.
At one point, I passed a surprising memorial – alongside an ordinary looking field was a large stone carved with the words Zeppelin on it. Nearby were what looked like ground anchors for one of these airships. My initial instinct was that maybe this was maybe where the first flight took place. A bit of research later showed this was in fact where LZ 2 had in fact crashed and been destroyed in 1906. It had taken off successfully from Lake Constance, but hit bad weather and was forced to ditch in this field. Oddly, I don’t seem to have stopped for a photo but I did find one online in a blog:
It can’t be a coincidence that in that exact field is the model plane flying club for the town of Kißlegg just ahead. I vaguely remember a sharp ramp just after the monument, followed by rolling downhill, and into the outskirts of the town. My memory of what came after is rather more clear.
Kißlegg – 13:50
I rode around town at least twice looking for somewhere to eat. But nothing seemed to be open. I’d actually given up and started to head out of town before I realised what a mistake this would be. My destination wasn’t that far ahead, but the heat and hills would have been burning through calories. I knew somewhere ahead lurked an energy crash if I didn’t fuel up here. I swung around and rolled back through the town once again with a vague plan. One more check of the high street, after which I would head off route out to the station. Even if they didn’t have a café, there’d be vending machines I was sure. But I didn’t get that far. Just beyond where I’d checked on previous loops I spied a bakery. The entire square of shops it was in were closed, but I spotted something I’d missed last time – there seemed to be lights on inside. Better still, there was a table with a canopy giving shade outside. I quickly parked the bike, ducked inside, placed an order, and then took advantage of their facilities.
There was a small serving window in the side of the building, which my food and coffee arrived through not long after I had sat myself down outside. I didn’t really need to “rest” per se, but I was in no hurry to get back out into the heat either. So I languished for nearly an hour enjoying both the savoury and sweet pastries. With only around 40km of riding left, I could easily afford the time. And this was really the last “full” day of the tour, something else to be savoured. Tomorrow, I’d be zipping towards the end and probably in no mood to dally around.
Aichstetten – 15:35
I’d really been hoping to recognize some part of where I crossed my route from TCRNo5. But there was really nothing noteworthy about it. Sure, if I squinted my eyes and strained my memory really hard I could tell myself that the little church, and streets looked familiar. And maybe they did, but I hadn’t stopped or seen anything here which really came to mind. Apart from a very vague memory that perhaps I’d ventured up a couple of the sidestreets looking for ice cream, or water, or maybe a pharmacy (not sure why that comes to mind, but it does). The town offered no more for me now than it had back then. I did recognize one name on a signpost heading out of town: Lautrach. I wasn’t going there on this trip, but I did recall going on to there on my previous visit.
From here it was just a short run to my destination for the night. Rather too much of the riding since my lunch stop had been on unpleasantly busy roads, with drivers passing way too fast and with too little space, and impatient trucks squeezing me towards the ditch. I was glad when I finally peeled away from this onto quiet lanes approaching the town, and then proper cycle paths through the suburbs. I do my best to avoid traffic, and had been spectacularly successful at that for so much of the trip that this little short, unruly, section felt even disproportionally unpleasant to what in fact was a fairly short distance.
Memmingen – 16:00
Wow
My choice of hotel more than made up for my poor routing choice over the closing kilometres . A huge beer garden at the back under the shade of a massive tree. A beer/food truck tucked at the back. And a proper locked bike shed for my steed for the night. I sipped slowly on a large Radler (shandy) in the cool of the garden, savouring this last overnight stop on the road. After showering and changing, I came back for a more substantial meal. I had planned to venture out into the town, but when I saw the hotel had Benjamin’s recommendation of käspatzn as an accompaniment to a large steak there was no need to look further. It really could not get better than that – and what arrived did not disappoint. A perfect meal to end a most enjoyable day on the last “full” riding day of the tour.
