Chapter 6: Following the Danube - Downhill All the Way!

After leaving Danaueschingen (the official starting point) the Danube quickly became a small river, but not big enough to support boat traffic. This was taken our second day.

We rode 419 miles over 11 days. Rob likes to tell people that it was all downhill, since we were following the flow of the river.  But we passed many people going in the other direction so it couldn't have been that much downhill. Really, it was mostly just flat, easy riding. Most days we hardly broke a sweat and we quickly mastered the few hills that came our way.

This picture was taken our second day out. Notice how flat the bike path is. This was not a challenging ride. We were happy just toodling along.

We did hit one short steep hill that brought us to this lovely rest stop put there just for bicyclists on the outskirts of a little town. We got off our bikes and pushed them up the last bit. (We have no pride.) There was a shelter with a picnic table, maps, and a log book. I glanced through it to see if any Americans had been there. And the only American entry was by someone from Los Angeles complaining about the hill. They had written something like, "Why would you put such a steep hill on a bicycle route for tourists?" I thought, "How pompous you Americans are that you think a hill can be erased just for you."

These are a couple closeups of the rest area. It felt very welcoming. In fact, during the entire trip we felt welcomed as cyclists (except when the people blocked me from getting off the train). 

If you look carefully you'll see a bit of wildlife hiding in the grass on the island in the middle of the river. This picture was taken on day 3. You won't see this part of the Danube on your Viking River Cruise.

But later that afternoon the river had become a significant presence. We stayed overnight in Riedlingen, a small city across the river from the bike path.

On day 6 the river became large enough to support a local yacht club.

On Day 8, we came to the Weltenburg Abbey, about 250 miles from the start of the Danube. From the abbey our Danube Bike Trail guide book said: "The official bicycle route takes a steep and busy road up the mountain and then follows a rough forest track, bypassing much of the dramatic scenery as the Danube winds its way through the Franconian Jura. We therefore recommend you board an excursion boat or wooden barge at Weltenburg and enjoy the views from the water on the 5 km. trip to Kelheim." 

The excursion boat makes its way through the Danube Gorge to the Weltenburg Benedictine Abbey. 

We opted for one of the wooden barges. 

Our bicycles fit easily on board.

That's the Weltenburg Abbey in the background.

A view of the Danube from a bridge in Regensberg. Now we're getting into serious river cruising territory. Still day 8.

Day 10, we took a ferry across the river in Niederalteich.

Day 11, just before Passau. The Danube's gotten pretty big, big enough for plenty of river cruise ships to take over the riverfront.

Passau is located near the Austrian and Czech borders, at the confluence of three rivers, the Danube, Inn, and Ilz. This was the end of our journey.

I suppose a professional photographer could take pictures that would turn the Danube that we rode along into a much more majestic and picturesque river, but in the end, from my point of view, it was just a river. So what makes it such a big deal? A big enough deal for all the river cruises that make their way up and down its waters, and all the bicyclists that ride along its shores? 

Whenever we seek a new adventure we look for a compass, a direction to guide our wanderings. The Appalachian Trail provides hikers with an historic trail over a couple thousand miles. Mountain climbers in Colorado check off the list of fourteen thousand foot peaks. Rivers serve tourists with a means of luxury travel where they can see many cities without having to pack their bags every morning. And the Danube, with its maintained bike route along its shores, gave us a compass for exploring the peaceful beauty of the German culture and countryside.

Chapter 5: Forty Miles a Day?

"If you have a weakness for romantic old cities, you should find the strength to pedal up the steep but short road to the upper city [of Muhlheim an der Donau]." This is a quote from our Danube Bike Trail guide. Of course we climbed the hill and enjoyed a meander through the town. 

40 miles a day? It’s hardly worth getting on a bicycle for such a short ride. Or so I thought when a neighbor told me she and her husband were going on a bicycle tour in Europe and that’s how many daily miles they would average. They even had their gear carried for them. I tried not to turn up my snobby nose when I said, “Well, I guess you’ll have lots of time to sightsee.”

That was before last year when Rob had to slow down with his pulmonary hypertension and we tried a tour where we averaged 40 miles a day for 25 days. It turned out okay. We had time to get a leisurely start to each day, visit with our Warm Showers hosts or other folks we met along the way, wander through art museums, stop for a swim now and then, and find refuge from the ever-present rain. In the end we still covered a thousand miles, which sounds rather respectable when we talk about it.

But when we decided to take eleven days to ride along the German Danube, a distance of about 360 miles, I still wasn’t sure I wouldn’t get bored. I didn’t. Now, as I am looking back over the trip I am wondering why it was so memorable, even as it was unexciting.

An art colleague has often suggested that I bring along sketching materials on my bicycle trips. “When you’re taking a break, just pull out your sketch pad,” she says.

I explain to her that I’ve tried it, and it doesn’t work.  It’s a puzzle, even to me. Where does the time go, especially when we’re only riding 40 miles a day? We really don’t do that much sightseeing. In Germany, not speaking the language, it made no sense to go to museums in the small towns and cities we passed through.

Mostly when we stop, in a town or alongside the road, the first priority is to locate a restroom or a private hideaway in the woods. Then I'll search through the pack on top of my bike rack where we store our food provisions. Is it time for lunch or just a snack? We'll settle down on a bench, or a stone wall, or a patch of grass, eat a piece of fruit and some nuts, spread some peanut butter on a graham cracker, or slice some cheese to have with crackers. Half an hour, 40 minutes go by. I might write in my journal. I’ll pull out our map, look at where we’ve been and where we’re going. Do we continue with our current plan or make a new one? Rob and I might talk, about nothing much. “Did you see that black swan?” or “I wonder what that big structure in the river was.” Rob likes to just sit and look around. If we’re sitting in a grassy park, and the sun is shining, I’ll lie down on the grass and take a nap. If we’re in the middle of a town, we’ll admire the architecture, watch people go by. Before getting back on our bikes we'll put away any food we haven't eaten and check our water supply, maybe revisit the restroom. We're not often in a hurry. On our bicycle trips time is plentiful.

I’m a list keeper. I always have a list going, with all the chores I have to get done, errands I need to run, things I want to do – rake leaves, go for a run, put up deer fencing, call the pest control company, go to Trader Joes and the dump, write our Christmas letter, practice piano, make dinner. My list usually has about 20 items on it and there is never a prayer that I will get everything on it done in a day. Or a week. In my heart I know that, but still, at the end of the day I don’t congratulate myself for everything I've crossed off, but rather chastise myself for all that I have yet to do. So, after dinner, when most people will sit down with a beer and enjoy watching television or relaxing with a good book or jigsaw puzzle, I’m looking at my list and figuring what I can still complete when I’m exhausted – pay the bills, research investments, clean up my email.

When Rob and I get on our bicycles and set off on an adventure I leave my list behind. Life becomes simpler. Make sure we have enough food for the day, discuss our route, have some idea where we’ll spend the night, get on our bikes, and ride. I keep my eyes open and constantly look around me. I don't want to miss anything that Rob will mention when we stop - did you see that fox? - or a place to swim, or a car about to pull out in front of me.

Our itinerary is always flexible. If we come across a beautiful campground early in the afternoon, we’ll stop for the day. And on this trip along the Danube, it wasn’t beautiful campgrounds we came across but picturesque towns and cities. Most aren’t in any of the tour books, only in our bicycling Danube guide. What a treat it was to discover these gems without having to share them with hordes of other tourists. I often thought that these were treasures that tour groups and people driving the country in rented cars passed right by. So we spent a lot of time pedaling into these beautiful towns, riding or walking our bikes up and down the cobblestone streets, soaking up the centuries-old atmosphere.  I was never bored.

As we were standing by this beautiful half-timbered house in Muhlheim an der Donau and looking out over the valley below, a gentleman came outside. We tried to talk to him but when he realized we only spoke English - which he spoke sparingly - he called for his friend to come outside. She spoke English fluently and gave us a short tour of the town, pointing out the several-hundred-year-old rathaus (town hall) and an old castle that is still privately owned.

Straight ahead is the rathaus (town hall).

The friend was happy to practice her English on us. She needed to know "business English" for her job. She told us that her mother had ridden the Danube and thought that the Germany section, the one we were riding, was the prettiest. I don't know if that is true, but we were happy to hear it. 

We’re reading a lot today about the importance of being mindful, or living in the moment. Be in the present, not the past or the future. That is certainly one of the joys of bicycle touring for me. No lists. No schedule. If we don’t ride as far as we might have planned, it’s usually because something better came our way and we’ll get there tomorrow anyway. Or maybe not if a better choice comes along.