Chapter 2: Planning Paralysis

When our daughter Kylee asked me to send her our itinerary for our trip to Germany, I said, "We don't have one."

We knew this much. We were leaving for Munich on June 11, to arrive on the 12th, and staying three nights at the  Hotef Creatif Elephant. We would  bicycle along the German part of the Danube from its beginning in Donaueschingen to Passau on the Austrian border. Then we'd stay in Munich again at the Hotel Creatif Elephant for two nights before returning home on June 28.

We couldn't decide how to get to the Danube from Munich or back to Munich when we were done. Should we bicycle or take the train?

The German section of the Danube is only 600 kilometers, 360 miles, and mostly flat, a meager bike ride for the veteran bicyclists that we call ourselves. We'd purchased a bicycling guide that assured us the route is well-marked and well-maintained, on bicycle paths or country roads with light traffic, and paved, packed gravel or dirt. With 12 days set aside for the bicycling portion of our trip we worried we’d fly through the miles, and then what?

We could bicycle from Munich to Donaueschingen, the official start of the river. That would add 278 km, or 160 miles, according to googlemaps. But we’d never bicycled in Germany before and had no idea what the roads were like for cyclists or how truck and automobile drivers treated cyclists. How would we know the best route? Our map of Germany didn’t give us enough detail. I looked online but couldn’t find any way to get more detailed maps. I tried googlemaps and clicked for a bicycle route and it had me going on a gazillion different roads. I googled “bicycling in Germany” and found links for other bicycling routes but nothing going directly from Munich to Donaueschingen. Could we find a good road map once we got to Munich? Could we find a bike shop that would give us advice? 

We worried about how hilly it would be outside the Danube Valley. Given the New Hampshire spring rains and our busy schedules, we’d had no time to train for this trip. What if we used up too many days just getting to the Danube and then had to rush, not being able to savor the part of the ride that was our main goal for the trip?

Or we could take a train to Donaueschingen. I tried looking that up online and found that, yes, we could bring our bikes on the train, but so many different websites with train information came up in my search that I didn’t even know where to begin.

Then there was the question of getting from Passau back to Munich, approximately 179 kilometers. That seemed more doable, but what if we ran into problems and didn’t make it back to Munich in time for our flight home? Or we could take the train back to Munich.

We were paralyzed by too much information that wasn’t the information we wanted. We couldn’t decide.

I felt incredibly nervous about this trip, our first long ride in Europe, in a country where English is not the native language. We’d ridden in Italy in 2013, but that was only for three days and we had planned it carefully, knowing exactly where we would be staying both nights on the road. Last year we cycled through Quebec, where the native language is French, but my mastery of French far exceeds the three words of German I have at my command. Besides, Canada isn’t really a foreign country, even if you are required to have a passport to cross the border. (Remember when all you needed was a driver’s license?)

Everyone I talked to said that not knowing any German wouldn’t be a problem. And everyone I talked to said that if we went in June we’d have no problem finding places to spend the night, no need to book ahead. We’ve talked to plenty of people who have toured in Europe and had no problem camping.

Still, I felt an incredible amount of anxiety every time I spent brain cycles thinking about this trip. Besides stressing about how to get to and from the Danube, we’d never flown with our bikes before. How was that going to work?

I don’t know where I picked this saying up: Find your comfort zone. Then leave it.

I left my comfort zone as soon as we paid for our plane tickets.

I didn’t talk to Rob about my anxiety. I could say, “I’m feeling anxious about this trip.” And he’d say, “Me, too.” Well, that would be reassuring.

Or else he’d say, “Everything will be fine.” And I’d think, “How do you know?”

Rob isn't big on planning but he is big on being easy-going. I'll say, "How would you like to do such-and-such?" And he'll say, "Sure." Which works great if there's something I really want to do. Not so great if I'm having an indecision crisis.

When we boarded the plane to Munich we still hadn't decided how we’d get to and from the Danube.