Memmingen to Munich
I realised while writing that I started to consider this as the “last day” of the tour, rather than the “last full day”. A minor semantic difference, but one which does sum up how it felt. The previous days were a steady routine, pack down; travel from hotel to hotel; laundry and prep at the end of the day to get ready for the next. But this day would be missing that latter part. Whatever time I arrived, I could just dump everything and relax. The riding would be done. No more “keep everything tidy and organized“. Like I said, subtle, but different.
The receptionist last evening had offered an “early breakfast” option – although I forget now if that was 6:30 or 7:00. But whatever time was agreed, the lobby door back into the hotel was locked when I got down there. The early shift manager was running late – and when she arrived 5 or 10 minutes later looked flustered and worried. She hurriedly opened up, and set up tables for what was now a small group of guests. Honestly, I wasn’t remotely bothered about the slightly later opening, but I got why she was worried. As she rushed around, still in jeans and T shirt, I hoped none of the early starters would make any complaints about her late arrival or not yet being in staff uniform.
Memmingen – 07:23
At some point after I left the beer garden yesterday evening a massive storm had blasted through. A proper, full blown, release of all those days of heat and humidity: thunder and lightning crashing around and a torrential downpour. It was still raining, just about, when I left. But the clouds looked to be lifting and it seemed likely it would ease or stop fairly soon. Not knowing how long that would be though, I kitted up in full wet weather gear for the first time on the tour – including waterproof shorts, leggings and shoe covers. It wasn’t warm yet, so as well as staying dry it helped to keep the chill off too.
Much of the day ahead I knew was going to be lumpy – again, short punchy hills rather than any real climbs. And the first 50km would include the larger four of those, after which point the terrain would gradually descend towards Munich. The first pitch came before any of those though. Once through the pretty, if damp, main square and out of town the road immediately ramped to around 11%, a rather rude wake up call for the legs and the first drips of sweat from having so much gear on. I knew before long I’d have to strip down again, but not immediately. Once over the top in the interestingly named village of Trunkelsberg, the pace picked up sufficiently on the downhill run that I was glad to have layers between me and the still chilly air. If you’re a fan of well organized logistics (and frankly, who isn’t) then a sight a little further along would have been truly rewarding. A huge, very neat, and obviously highly automated DPD depot – rows of red and white vans stationed along a multitude of chutes leading down from a parallel lines of warehouses. It was an impressive setup.
Beyond here the route switched from lanes to a beautifully smooth section of cycleway – following the highway for a short distance. As it did so, a weak watery sun began to break through the thinning layer of clouds. The storm was definitely lifting, at least for now, although depending which direction you looked large banks of dark ominous clouds were still lurking. The promise of better weather, combined with my lack of desire for a sweaty climb, saw me stop on the next uphill – the first of the longer, punchier hills of the day. Stripped of layers, it was pleasant to have some cooling air as I slogged up the 5km hill. Not steep, never more than 8%, and scenic too. So the effort was more mental than it was physical. In the back of my mind was that the other three ramps would follow in quick succession. Which they did – each slightly short and less steep than the last. I was basically riding up and down a series of ridges in the landscape. Something which was very visible from the lanes I was on too. During most of the rises, there was a long clear view of the steady incline up to the top of the ridge. The last of them was more wooded though. Instead of looking up across swathes of pasture, the lane ducked around between stands of trees. Before ducking into a final thick band of forest for one last slog up to the crest. All of it was superb riding, but the downhill which followed that last crest was doubly so – both for the fast flowing descent, and the knowledge that there was a town at the bottom with a café I had marked as a possible stop.
Ettringen – 10:15
Perfectly timed. A chunk of the hills done, and a café with great savoury pastries, cakes, coffee and juice. The tables and chairs outside were still a little damp from the rain. But they were no wetter really than I was, plus I may still have had my waterproof shorts on at this stage. I wasn’t along taking the outside option too – a couple of older gents were sat also enjoying the break in the weather and the coffee a couple of tables away. With zero hurry today, I enjoyed a leisurely stop – it’s entirely possible I went back for seconds on the coffee too.
The remainder of the morning and early afternoon rolled by as a delightful sequence of quiet lanes, gravel farm tracks, snaking along little streams through small villages. The bare bones of this part of the tour I’d found on Komoot, but I’d hacked it around a fair bit so I’ll claim at least some of the credit for the lovely route. At one point I was filled with so much joy at the gravel track I was bumping along that I just had to stop and take a photo. It was utterly unremarkable but, in the middle of fields, away from any traffic or anything much in fact, it just felt so open and free. The real essence of what an easy paced tour across countries should be. And a perfect finale really to this one.
I passed up a few places which would probably have made a good lunch stop due to it being too early and not really being hungry. As I rolled across what would turn out to be pretty much the last hill of the whole ride though a few things struck me. Firstly, in the distance were the very clear indications of a large city – I was beginning the long run into Munich. Next, there was a more immediate, fairly sizeable town immediately ahead of me. On reaching the outskirts of that town though the most noticeable indication struck me. It was going to rain – soon – and hard. Towering black thunderclouds had suddenly risen up in the sky. The cycle path ran out from the fields it had been crossing and dumped me onto a town street. I looked left and right for options – not seeing anything at first. A check of my phone though confirmed that what looked like a supermarket some ways along the road had a café. With luck, if it was open, I’d be there in time to sit out some of the coming storm.
Fürstenfeldbruck – 13:15
I guess a supermarket café probably isn’t the most memorable spot for the last lunch of the tour. But, it is kind of fitting since I do enjoy ordinary, everyday. And despite being part of a chain, the staff were supremely friendly, the baguettes were tasty, and the coffee was good. I sat inside enjoying them as a torrent of water lashed down from the sky outside – sending some shoppers scurrying to their cars, whilst others sheltered under the roofed entrance where my bike was parked in the dry. I sat and drank more coffee in the hope the storm would fully pass, but it didn’t so eventually I had to fish my wet weather gear out and prepare to set off in the rain once again.
At least by the time I set off again the worst of the cloudburst had passed over. The cobbled streets through the centre of town were more than dicey though. In fact at an entrance to one side street, and old lady had slipped and fallen down and there was a backup of stationary traffic as the ambulance tended to her. I squeezed carefully through the line of cars, and made my way past and through the town to a junction where my route left the surface streets and onto a riverside cycleway through an area of parkland. I knew this was the start of the ride into Munich itself – or I supposed around Munich would have been more accurate. I’d deliberately avoided the centre of the city, and would be skirting around to approach my destination from the north west. It was far from a direct route, in fact from that point it would involve around 40km of jinking through suburbs, through small parks, and along streams. But from this stage on I had a feeling of being almost there. Which was appropriate really, given them name of one of the rivers that I rode along near Dachau.
The name means “almost” in Afrikaans, so of course it got sent to our family group.
Immediately beyond this came a rather mundane stretch of about 10km along a dead straight city road, still damp with the rain and a persistent mist in the air as water sprayed up from passing traffic. I was just beginning to find it a little dull when a quick right and left saw me leave it behind and enter something wholly unexpected. It started out as a long drive through what was obviously an old quarter, where I grabbed a couple of quick photos. Through an arch and along more drive though it became a full blown stately home – Schloss Schleißheim – which on the map seems to have an Altes (old) and Neues (new) sections. Most of my later photos are of the newer part I think.
Shortly after the schloss though came something even more unexpected and delightful. As the quiet lane ran out across a broad swathe of pasture, the first thing I noticed was what looked to be a disused airfield on my right (checking the satellite view now though, the runway looks intact). But the odd part having to pause for a little whilst sheep were being herded across the road. I was now just a few kilometres from my destination, properly within the surrounds of Munich, and I was surrounded by a flock of sheep. It was all a little surreal.
The peculiar, eclectic sequence of sights didn’t end there either. After riding over one of the busy arterial motorways, in quick succession I passed the Bayern Munich football stadium, wound my way carefully and politely around an army barracks, before finally riding through the middle of the BMW museum: Motorworld Munich. Quite accidentally, I’d managed to create a mini tour around some of the major sights of Munich in the last 10km of the whole tour. It was all such a pleasant surprise that I passed a couple of personal landmarks without even really noticing. In the very last 2km of the ride I crossed both my northward route from NC4K in 2024, and my southward route from TCRNo8 in 2022. It was no loss really not to have realised it at the time, but it was quite fitting. Aside from a chance to catch up with my buddies, which I would be doing very soon, it was those two previous rides which had made me want to come back here. On both previous occasions I’d been struck with what a lovely sense the city had, and a little sad that the time limits imposed by the events I was riding gave me no time to enjoy it. But that wasn’t the case now. I had pointed my bike here with the express intention of fixing that oversight, and after a couple more turns I was parking up at my hotel ready to make good on that.
Sporhotel Scheck, Munich – 16:15
