Every camper dreads hearing it. Late at night, Paws circles the tent and stops only centimeters from your head.
I’m on the verge of sleep, in a sleeping bag in a forest campsite near Berlin, when I’m woken by the sound of a beast moving over leaves. It doesn’t matter that I’m close enough to smell the kebab stands that line Europe’s fifth-largest city, and it doesn’t matter that I’m an intrepid cycle tourer attempting to pedal the globe.
I’m terrified. A furry head dives under the outer shell of the tent and sharp teeth tear savagely at the ground sheet.
“Oi!” I scream. “Get out of it!”
The city of Schaffhausen, Germany. Picture: Supplied
To my surprise, it scatters and my partner Scott Daniel-Guiterrez throws on his headlamp and bravely charges out of the tent to face the attacker. It’s a tame-looking fox – and judging by its indifference – it’s gearing up for round two.
An hour later, it does, but this time the furry fiend goes straight for the food bag. It’s funny for all of five seconds until I realise my breakfast is in danger – now it’s personal.
Bike touring doesn’t just make your peckish, it sparks an insatiable hunger that even fourth helpings won’t assuage, and I’ve been on the road for five months since pedalling out of Inverness, Scotland.
Scott Daniel-Gutierrez takes a break from the road in the city of Dresden. Picture: Supplied
The following morning, we take the bike paths into Germany’s capital, Berlin.
The city, it seems, is in the midst of one hell of a renovation, and is the most vibrant I’ve experienced in Germany since veering east from The Netherlands.
With only a couple of days to lap up centuries of history, we visit the interactive DDR museum, which recreates life in the former East Germany, view the famous street art at the East Side Gallery (one of the few remnants left of the Berlin Wall) and finish with shots of Berliner Luft Klarer, a peppermint liqueur that tastes like toothpaste.
Sarah Webb soaks up the famous East Side Gallery in Berlin. Picture: Supplied
From Berlin, we head south towards the Elbe River and its famous long-distance bicycle route that stretches from France to Russia. It will deliver us to Dresden’s doorstep.
It’s a perfect plan, but heavy rain turns forest trails into mudslides while the thermometer scarcely tops 4C. The temperature plummets further when we reach Dresden – a city bombed during World War II and rebuilt into a chic university hotspot.
The country’s beer capital Munich is 500km to the south and to my hops-loving boyfriend there seems no better place to celebrate his 30th birthday. With a deadline of two days and a hotel booking at the Sheraton awaiting (as a treat), we ditch Dresden to catch a train to the Bavarian city.
Here, tourists stagger around in beer wench costumes and life’s a non-stop party. So while it is tough to leave the comfort of a posh hotel, it’s not hard to swing west to the solitude of the Black Forest.
Three hundred kilometres later, we reach Stuttgart and within minutes I’m in love. This Swabian capital is cool, sophisticated and stylish with its half-timbered houses, mountain views, winter markets and leafy streets.
The bike touring website warmshowers.org provides us with an Iranian host who not only puts us up for three nights but gives up his own bed, allowing us to explore the city and sip on eierpunsch at the winter market (a German version of eggnogg, which tastes like apple custard mixed with vodka).
From here we pedal south.
Europe’s biggest waterfall, Rheinfall, located just south of the Swiss border town of Schaffhausen. Picture: Supplied
Three days later, I’m flying down a foggy hill in Switzerland’s central northern landscape. To my left, cow bells ring out and to my right, a fairytale village with gingerbread-style houses comes into view. I’m tired, sweaty and cold but feel invincible.
“Bring on the mountains,” I yell while flying down the slope. The road whips around a bend into a steep climb and within seconds my pedalling slows.
A soul-destroying climb continues as we slog it out to Zurich, encountering Europe’s biggest waterfall at Schaffhausen on the way. Switzerland’s largest and arguably trendiest city hammers the hip pocket with exorbitant food and accommodation prices.
The toughest stretch of our trip looms: the Swiss Alps. We head south for Schwyze, past the Victorinox factory (Swiss Army knives) before pedalling to the lakeside tourist hotspot Luzern, and then over our first Alps pass to Interlaken.
The historic center of Dresden reflects in the river Elbe in Dresden, Germany. Picture: Jens Meyer (AP Photo)
Snow’s lying in a thick blanket on the distant mountains when Luzern eventually disappears from view and the idiocy of this godforsaken route strikes. Within an hour I am utterly exhausted and Brunig Pass, at 1008m, is still 35km away. It’s hard – harder than anything I imagined when dreaming up the Long Rode Home adventure a year ago.
Suddenly, the gradient hits 8 per cent and I pull over to check for what feels like a flat tyre. It’s not flat, the road’s just bloody steep. Two hours later, we reach the summit. I’m too tired to celebrate and instead we plunge back down the mountain.
We power on to Interlaken and take two days to explore this extreme sport hamlet.
From here, it’s a relatively easy cycle east to Switzerland’s capital, Bern, and then on to France where the race continues to make it south before winter.
Source: https://t24hs.com
