Detour after detour

Stage 24: Innsbruck to Basel (653km)

Day 1: 115.6km Beyond Schongau (Germany)
Day 2: 77.7km Augsburg
Days 3-6: Berlin
Day 7: 87.7km Beyond Memmingen
Day 8: 144.6km Beyond Sevelen (Switzerland)
Day 9: 112.2km Beyond Winterthur
Day 10: 115.1km Basel

It was all the stupid bint's fault; her and that child. If she hadn't been so damned clever and stupid at the same time, I could have done it. Even though it was the end of a long day, I'd taken precautions; I had my passport in my pocket and had taken a piss before entering. I could have done it, and I would have done it. But instead, I get this woman jumping out at me on a quiet dirt road asking that stupid question. A stupid question in German would have been fine, I could have answered it without stopping with a little shrug of my shoulders and one of the only phrases I know (ich spreichen kein deutch). But a stupid question repeated in English resulted in a cessation of my forward momentum.

"Is this a dead end street or not?"

I stopped and looked at the four full pannier bags on my bike with my sleeping bag perched on the top of the back two. When I purse my lips, I can see the hairs of my beard on my upper lip. I'm fairly sure I didn't look your typical Lichenstinian banker out for his early evening cycle on familiar streets.

"I'm afraid I have absolutely no idea" I reply with my left foot planted firmly on the ground. "I just saw the sign saying this was a cycle path and am now following it."

"Yeah, I saw that sign too. I guess I'll just continue on"

"You do that"

I lifted my foot, cursing the brilliant linguistic skills of continental people for the remainder of that non-dead-end-street.

Lichenstein was going to be the one country I had cycled across, but never set foot in. Whenever that little banking country's name was mentioned in passing (and I would ensure it was mentioned often), I would be able to stun people with this little titbit of Craven trivia. I could then sit back and watch as they gave two little chuckles of mock amusement before they backed slowly way thinking to themselves "My GOD! The man's cycled from India to Ireland and that's the best he can come up with".

Of course, it was all ruined by that idiotic woman and ugly child. So now I have only a story about how I failed to cycle across a country and not set foot in it. It may actually be a little more interesting...

So after leaving that last post on a bit of a cliffhanger, I decided to head north into Bavaria to the home of Thorben who I was at university with. On my way, I experienced first hand that generosity towards strangers does not necessarily stop at the borders to the EU. After finishing up on the internet (I managed to write the whole blog on the free internet, but had to go to a paying one to upload photos. A fair compromise I believe) I made my way to a campsite on the outskirts of the city. A storm was brewing, and I didn't quite want to be camping in a big open field during another electric storm. There I met Charls, an Austrian who was now living in Switzerland. I managed to decline the offer of a free meal in the campsite restaurant, but not the €10 he insisted in pressing in my hand the following morning. I managed to buy a couple of baked delights with it, so thank-you Charls.

I must now retract my previous statement about the Alps being a close second to the Himalaya. True, they are impressive, but it was a premature outburst. From Innsbruck, I had only one more measly pass (at 15%) to sweat up before a long descent out of the mountains brought me into the rolling hills of Bavaria. I had been expecting another 150km of mountains, and although the countryside was nice and green, there wasn't quite the thrill of mountain cycling present. Still, I made it to Augsburg in a day and a half.

Thorben was the first pre-cycle-journey-non-family-member that I had met thus far, and it was good to see another familiar face. His mother was also a fantastic cook who didn't shy away from the use of large amounts of potatoes!! I left Sicandar behind to rest as Thorben and I caught a lift up to Berlin.

Berlin was a great city and I caught up with a couple of other friends from St Andrews along with Thibault and Monika who I'd cycled with in Syria. The more continental cities I get to see, the more I come to realise just how rubbish Dublin actually is. Even stepping in a massive pile of dogshit on my final night didn't mar my views on the German capital (It did help that I was wearing Alasdair's shoes at the time!).

A return to Augsberg on Monday evening was followed by a relatively late departure towards Lichenstein on Tuesday. Thorben's mother was my guide through the forest towards the main road and she absolutely destroyed me on the slight uphill inclines. I had a thought at the start of the trip that cycling 12000km would make me fit; instead I find that my 36 inch waist is now 36.5, I've put on a kilo, and I sweat an awfully lot more! I guess eating enough food for 2 people may be contributing towards this conundrum slightly.

It was on the end of the second day out of Augsberg that I reached Lichenstein and succesfully cycled through it with putting only one foot in it. I even hit the capital city and cycled passed the football stadium where I think Ireland was once held to a 0-0 draw, before the Lichenstinians went for a lap of honour. It might have been Lithuania, but I'm fairly sure it was the bankers (and that was even back when Ireland was "good").

Two days was spent crossing Switzerland along a more northern route that wasn't in the high mountains. The detour to Bavaria and Germany, although being fantastic had broken my rhythm somewhat. The 2 days back to reach Lichenstein (more just to add another country to my list than anything else: Switzerland was the 25th so far this trip) again took its toll as I was, once again, travelling in the "wrong direction". I needed to get some forward momentum going again, and I needed to reach Basel.

So here I am now, staying with Mick, a friend from Ireland. It took a little bit more effort than I'd previously estimated. I'd passed a roadsign at one point saying 90km to Basel on the main road, before passing another on the cycle path 2km further down indicating 110km to the same destination. Since entering Austria, I've been undecided on the merits of the excellent network of cycle paths that crisscross these countries. My current views: good for a lazy Saturday afternoon cruise, crap for a cycle tourist; though perhaps that's just crap for a cycle tourist that doesn't have a cycle map! Though I am grateful to the two Swiss cyclists from Zurich who cycled about 2km out of their way to direct me onto the national cycle route and told me what routes I'd want to follow. It did help a lot, and was nice to be away from traffic for a bit.

Quite how long I'll be here, I'm not entirely sure. I'm meeting some more friends in Paris on the last weekend of July, so that's when I've got to be there. There's a possibility I may head a little south to meet up with Danielle, the Swiss motorcyclist who was on the ferry from Israel to Cyprus, but right now, I think that it's one detour too many. Of course, tomorrow could bring along a completely different frame of mind. We shall see...

and once again I've shaven off my jesus beard. I was tempted by a goatee, but then slapped myself across the face and reminded myself they're just poncy.

Scaling the Berlin Wall
















Thorbs and me















Thorbs's mother...well in front of me!















Caesar, the Italian cyclist in fantastic wedgie-defying shorts















Lichenstein

















Before















Goatee
















The return of the chin