To Basel
In one sense, this ride could have just been about unfinished business – completing the rest of the Rhein Route which the previous year’s change of plans had led me to miss out. But through the planning and build-up the ride had become something more. Christopher, my buddy I’d visited last year, barely hesitated long enough to check with his wife Danielle before replying to my message with a “count me in“. So here I was, loading a huge bike box into the kombi and starting the trek to meet him in Basel, via Gatwick and a completely unrelated stop at a random garden centre near the long term parking to drop off a telescope with someone who had bought it on eBay. The first challenge of the day began as soon as I exited the bus. I did not have a £1 coin for the trolley, and it was a long walk to the terminal. Watching me battle with the box, a lady at one of the other stops hurried over and pressed a coin into my hand with words along the lines of “couldn’t bear to see you struggling” … and “don’t mention it, pay it forward later” as I thanked her. Honestly, the kindness of strangers is one of most heartwarming, and surprisingly common features of these rides.
Having eaten an enormous dinner at the garden centre there wasn’t much to do but kill time inside the terminal, as revealed in part of the flow messages with Yoli
15:18 - Robw: So the big Q - beer or coffee?
15:19 - Robw: I'm thinking beer
15:22 - Pixie: Beer 👍
15:23 - Robw: 🤣
I have a vague memory of flight delays – never ideal, but for this trip the impact would be inconsequential. My arrival time was always going to involve dark riding from the airport, so after a few planning iterations I’d chosen a place nearby with key box access meaning I could let myself in at whatever time I arrived. All I needed to was get there. The second stage of that began on the plane shortly before arrival. To any other passengers on the flight, the person emerging from the toilet would have looked identical – although they might have worried about the state of my guts given how long I’d been in there. In truth though, I came out wearing my cycle gear under the clothes I’d gone in wearing. Hence the protracted visit for the gymnastics to disrobe and kit up in the confines of the tiny cubicle.
Basel quickly became my favourite airport on arrival – progress through immigration and getting the bike box onto a trolley was ridiculously rapid. Although it wasn’t long before I began cursing the heat inside the terminal. I found myself a quiet corner near the doors to assemble the bike. But if I stood close enough to the outside, I was freezing. Standing away from that I was literally dripping sweat in puddles onto the polished floor. There was nothing to do but suck it up and get the job done. I was going to ride away, which was my preference having seen the immense cost of taxi rides even to nearby destinations. As we exited the baggage hall I’d met a fellow Brit with a bike on his way to ride the Danube who remarked that he’d never even considered just building his bike there and then, and was similarly shocked by the local transfer costs. Maybe it’s a result of the airport almost sitting in no man’s land straddling two borders – perhaps taxi pricing came from the Swiss half.
As I wheeled across the concourse trying to get my bearings I was a little nervous. This part of the route planning had been one of most vexing and I’d revisited it several times. The area around Basel airport is a confusing maze of large highways and the cycling infrastructure needed careful scrutiny. Parts of it appeared under construction on what I hoped were old satellite images. Picking my way across the terminal approach road and down alongside a car park it was a huge relief to see a fully built cycle path across the other side of a main road. This was the part I’d been most uncertain of – once across it was a peaceful, if chilly, jaunt along the airport perimeter and out across a short stretch of residential streets. Interestingly, as well as the shortest start to any ride so far, these few kilometres would be the only ones where I would use my front light to actually light my way.
In no time I was stood by the mailboxes in front of the apartments, trying to work out which one held the key I needed. After a couple of attempts, I found the right box, and the actual apartment itself. The owner had messaged to say take the bike inside, which was ideal – I needed to refine my packing and tweak a few things to be fully road ready before tomorrow. Even with the late arrival I had tons of time – Christopher’s train would only arrive late morning tomorrow, and the station was close by. I spent the last few minutes before sleep studying the route in and checking out likely looking breakfast stops. McDs was a fallback, but there were better looking bakeries a bit further into the city.
Ah. Nothing like the start of an adventure!
Agreed – thanks!