Speyer to Baccarach
We started out much earlier than on previous days – I guess for the most part due to my slight anxiousness about the longer distance. Ordinarily 160km wouldn’t bother me, especially with our downstream and hence mostly downhill trajectory. But I wasn’t fully ridden in yet, and it was already clear Christopher was riding much stronger than me. Luckily, there was a nearby bakery which opened at 6am (literally called the bakery around the corner – De Bäcker ums Eck). So we crept out as quietly as cleated shoes on a tiled staircase allowed, and wheeled the few hundred meters to the little corner shop
I must have been feeling confident linguistically because I loaded up my tray and navigated the bill, including whether I needed to pay by cash without resorting to any English. As I headed to the table with coffees steaming & an assortment of delicious fare, there was a somewhat surprised look on Christopher’s face.
“But you speak perfect German?” He exclaimed in a surprised tone.
In the couple of years we’ve known each other I’d never made any secret of understanding German but I’d never really spoken much either. So I can see why this morning’s bold flourish came as something of a surprise, but really it wasn’t more than some basic schoolboy level phrases spoken with bravado. As is often the case with me, I was busking it. As we polished off the food, Christopher made a quick video call home to say hi to Danielle and Theo before we kitted up and headed out.
Still early, the streets were quiet. I knew this was one of several stretches over the next few days we’d criss cross my track from TCR No.5, but I didn’t recognise any of the kilometres heading out of town. More in my mind was a decision we needed to make up ahead, around 15km into the day. Cross the river and docks via 2 ferries onto the Mannheim side, which looked interesting albeit somewhat industrial. Or stay on this side of the river and take the slightly longer route around Ludwigshafen. We’d made the decision to skip the ferry options for fear of delays long before we reached the actual route split in Altrip. Luckily this side of the river also offered plenty of factories to look at, and some graffiti which Christopher couldn’t resist emulating (it’s a bit of a thing apparently).
At one point we crossed into a large urban park that I commented had a hill (Michaelsberg) marked on the map. Which instantly became a running joke until we exited the park 3 or 4km later having barely seen so much as a bump in the path, although there were a couple of muddy puddles in places. For the next 6km we threaded our way through a maze of busy city streets and infrastructure – although handily, despite being alongside a lot of traffic and trams, we were nicely insulated from it on cycle paths and allocated lanes. Rather less well planned was my snack stop – on the map I’d spotted what looked like several garages and cafes, but somehow we saw none of them. Eventually, 40km into the morning, we decided they must have either gone or been on the wrong carriageways of major roads we’d ridden alongside. Reluctantly, we paused under a motorway bridge and broke into our own supplies of snack bars.
The route beyond was an interesting contrast. On the right hand side, behind banks and fences was a vast expanse of rail-yards and industry. On the left were fields of inner city crops, currently being sprayed with not especially pleasant smelling water which we did our best to time our run through to avoid as much of the spray as possible. We were making our way gradually towards the city of Worms around 15km ahead. So the missing snack stop wasn’t a disaster – we could divert into the city centre if we didn’t find any route side options. The riding continued to be a contrast of green spaces and industry – generally pleasant and always something interesting to see, even where we wove around docks and across shunting yards. Eventually, across a massive road junction which involved waiting on two sets of lights, we rolled up to a café in the car park of a local Aldi. Fancy it was not, but with good coffee, sandwiches and cakes, it had everything we needed.
Leaving Worms was a little troubling – which I shared with Christopher as we headed out alongside the highway, and then back to the river. Around 45 years ago, as a school kid I’d visited Worms on an exchange trip and stayed with a local family. Among the many great memories of that trip, I recalled the city was vibrant and interesting. Maybe it was selective memory on my part, or just the suburbs we routed past today, but recent years of austerity seemed to have ravaged the city leaving a subtle but pervasive background of decay and neglect. Like the low grating hum of a cooling fan on the verge of seizing up and causing a total melt down. It was sad to see and it was impossible not to think back to the grandeur of those EU buildings in Strasbourg, and those 720 MEPs and their support staff hiding away inside their glass cubes. Squandering money literally ripped from countries to serve their little club rather than helping avert the collapse of communities like this. Not that the central or local governments of our individual countries are any less detached, inefficient, incompetent, and/or corrupt of course.
Moving on …
Before leaving the city fully behind us, Christopher and I struck up a deal for the next couple of hours. He was riding much more strongly than me, and I needed to pace myself carefully without worrying I’d be holding him back. So we decided we’d take the next section at our own speed, and would regroup in whichever came sooner: 100km, or 1pm. Although in theory, at my pace they’d both come up around the same point – leaving Christopher free to scout ahead and rack up some extra km at his faster pace.
It led to a very pleasant second half of the morning for both of us. For myself, rolling along at an easy pace I took in the majestic views of river and towns – of which two come mind particularly. Oppenheim was the first, with an impressive church set high on the hillside although the route stayed on the flatland below rather than crawling up to it. And Nierstein, which we saw via a mazy wiggle of streets that I figured must be taking us past some historic buildings. If only I’d read a guidebook to appreciate quite why we wound around so much – although the old buildings were lovely. I half expected to find Christopher at the restaurant in the centre of town, and did look inside just in case. But it was way before our agreed rendezvous. The brick road out of town was equally lovely, flanked by vineyards with narrow tractors sliding the thin space between vines to tend the crop. Just beyond a train handily stopped traffic so I could catch my breath from the undulating road.
One more town later, after flying along a stretch of perfect tarmac through a newly built suburb, and the 100km mark came up sooner than expected. Sure enough, a few minutes later, I spotted a familiar looking rider heading towards me. Christopher had scouted about 8km further along the route but not seen anything inviting for lunch, so we decided to ride into Mainz itself and look for something there. We were possibly a little out of sync at this point, as none of the ready options riverside or by the impressive cathedral appealed to each of us equally. So we ended up at the lowest common denominator of a supermarket just away from the river. Which, somewhat awkwardly, was also the local lunch spot for a nearby school. So checkouts were slow, and we probably looked like a couple of dodgy old blokes sat outside eating our food. But it served a purpose, and it was a pleasant leafy spot to take a break and refuel.
Mainz itself was its own kind of special urban hell. OK, we did have cycle paths, even to the extent that one underpass had dedicated elevated sections for us. So we were completely safe from traffic. But progress was slow, regularly interrupted by traffic lights. And across one later stretch the path was old and seriously broken up. Again, not a problem on gravel tyres, but not lovely either. Christopher mentioned that one of the big German bike brands had a location here (Rose Bikes maybe) and we did briefly contemplate a visit. But the idea of cracking on and stopping somewhere riverside for ice cream appealed more.
Eventually, we left the city behind and rolled through a long series of allotments, some of which almost seemed like permanent dwellings, and then back to the river. Snaking along for the next 20km or so, through small villages, past campsites, all the time hugging the river to our right. Finally, what seemed like an especially gratuitous effort to get us back to the river led us onto a rough and ugly rutted track of a couple of kilometres, rather than just following the nearby road into Bingen. I was excited to be here for a few reasons. It held more memories from TCR No 5 for me, and possibly because of that had been an overnight stop in an early version of the plan. But also because, based on my memories from 9 years back, I was sure we’d find a nice stop for that ice cream. Which a littler further along into town we did, in style.
From the vantage spot of our table, drinks and ice creams in hand, we could watch the world go by: ferries shuttling across the river; huge barges lugging their cargo up and down; trains running along both banks; and far across the other side a cable car floating over the vineyards up to a monument perched on top of a hill. It was a blissful spot and I’m sure we’d have lingered were it not for a darkening sky and a faint hint of rain in the air. Our destination was close now, and there wasn’t much point risking getting caught in a downpour and arriving drenched.
Just past our stop we crossed a bridge were the river Nahe flowed into the Rhein, and which marked the spot where my TCR route had cut across country, bypassing Worms and taking a shorter but much hillier route to Speyer. It was a better route for that event, but I’d enjoyed our riverside meander this time more. A handful of kilometres later, after many more spots I recognised and probably bored Christopher mentioning, the familiar sight of Bacharach came up on our left. Which we did of course ride into accompanied by the sound of What the World Needs Now blaring from Christopher’s phone and us singing along at the tops of our voices. I mean you have too, right?
We rode through the old city walls to what we thought was our hotel, only to discover a mix-up in the bookings. The owner got us sorted at a friend’s hotel nearby, which somewhat ironically had been one of our original choices anyway. The only problem was they no longer had a restaurant, but to make up for the mistake the hotel we thought we would be staying at promised us breakfast the next day on their balcony. Set into the city walls, this had been a part of the attraction so at least we’d get to experience it.
After dropping our bikes in the storage room across the street, and swinging by the local super for supplies, we dumped our gear, showered, and went out to grab some food. Pasta perhaps, although I don’t fully recall. I do remember playing another of Christopher’s games at some stage, perhaps later back at the hotel. But before heading there clambering up a large flight of steps to look at the ruins of a chapel on the opposite side of the street to where we ate. The views from up there were well worth the effort and capped off a great day nicely.
