I’m riding on a beautiful, well-marked bike path. Cars drive on their own lane and cyclists wait at the red light. It’s a change from Bordeaux. A bridge appears. It’s reserved for motorized vehicles, but I cross it anyway.
Now I’m on the other side of the Rhine. The bike path crosses peaceful green areas and passes by beer gardens. Having lived in Germany for eight years, I feel a special emotion.
I cycled along Germany’s most famous tourist route, the Romantic Road. I was drawn to revisiting this country with its familiar culture. The trip was also a sporting challenge, covering 500 km from Würzburg to Füssen, then 120 km in the Austrian Alps.
I enjoyed this cycling trip in August in many ways. In particular, it made me think about the relationship between the Germans and the French. Here’s why.
Arriving in Franconia
I leave early one morning by train from Bordeaux to reach the starting point of my itinerary, Würzburg, at the end of the day. The first of my many stops is the noisy, crowded and dirty bus station of Paris-Bercy. Unlike the bus used to go from Lyon to Turin last year, this one has a bike rack at the back, as indicated when booking.
As soon as the bus arrives in Strasbourg, 20 minutes late, I go out and fix my 2 luggage racks on my bike, then place my floor mat between them. Among the passengers who enter and those who leave, I look for the route leading to Offenburg, where my journey will continue by train. Google Maps tells me that I will arrive 10 minutes too late. However, the tool generally announces longer durations than I need.
I am delighted to get back in the saddle after this uncomfortable journey but the stress is being felt. I force my legs and encourage myself with my voice to accelerate. Shortly after crossing the border, a sublime dike that hosts a bike path appears. I have a view of choice on the surroundings, fields and forests.
Suddenly, below the dike, I notice a motionless rabbit. Amazed but distracted, I change direction and leave the track, then I stop my race, putting my foot down to not tumble down the slope.
The station of Offenburg is in sight. Delighted and proud of myself for having held my bet, I take a seat in the ICE train towards Mannheim. Inside, a young man speaks French on the phone. When I pick up my bike before going out, we talk. He’s going cycling with his father in Italy and has a few weeks of travel ahead of him. The young man also tells me that he has resigned from his job. This discussion pleases me because it immerses me in the world of cycling tourism, made of freedom, adventures and bad surprises.
We are amused by the lack of punctuality of the German trains because the train is delayed. Enough to make me miss my connection in Mannheim. On the platform, a sign displaying my train indicates that it is also delayed.
In Frankfurt, I get on a regional train that then takes me to the destination of my day. Inside there are many foreigners. Seeing these people around me, I tell myself that a large German city like Frankfurt is multicultural. Next door, there is little diversity in Bordeaux.
I arrive in Würzburg at 10:30 pm tired from the journey. A couple contacted via the Warmshowers cycling community a few days ago welcomes me for the night. Hanna and her husband Timo are waiting for me in front of their building.
‘Surprising that your train is on time! You never know with Deutsche Bahn”, says Hanna.
I am delighted to exchange with them and to find again the solidarity of the cycling community. Among their bike trips, there is a tour of several weeks in Argentina. Timo also did Bordeaux-Marseille in 3 days. This performance impresses me. We have to wake up early tomorrow because my hosts are going to leave the apartment at 7:30 to work. I go to bed on the couch in their guest room.
During breakfast, Hanna and Timo teach me that the region of Würzburg, Franconia, is, unlike the rest of the Land of Bavaria, a land of wines and not beer. To illustrate his point, Timo takes from a buffet a bottle of round shape, typical here. It reminds me of a rum bottle. The young man smiling and warm seems happy to share things about the city.
What to visit in Würzburg?
Würzburg is the capital of Lower Franconia and its main attraction is the Residence of the prince-bishops, built from the 18th century. Moreover, one should not miss the fortress of Marienberg which overhangs the city and dominates vineyards planted on the hillside. We reach it by crossing a bridge on which people drink white wine in summer. Finally, an unusual and historical place to visit is the Juliuspital, a former hospice and winery. The site now hosts a hospital and a wine library.
My hosts add that they are welcoming a couple of French people and their 2 children this evening. They leave tomorrow morning from my goal of the 1st stage, the village of Wertheim. I will recognize them by their bicycle equipped with a pedal set for people with disabilities, which allows them to lie down. The welcome and kindness of my hosts touch me.
These first exchanges in German allow me to practice a foreign language that I master but that I have little opportunity to practice. Maintaining it is one of the objectives of this trip.
A bridge, wine and Bavarian cyclists
After leaving the apartment with Timo, I start the visit of Würzburg by the Juliuspital. It has a peaceful garden and a building that serves as a tasting place for the wines produced on the Stern estate.
Then, at 9 o’clock, I enter the Residence. At the entrance, a large sign reminds me that the monument is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site. I know nothing about this place or its function before Timo talked to me about it because I didn’t prepare my visit.
The first room sets the tone: a huge entrance hall into which horse carriages could enter, between the columns. I admire the statues that guard the place then go up the monumental staircase. There is almost no one. Looking up, I discover a huge painted ceiling. The luxury and richness of the decorations are impressive. I read the explanatory signs in German or the English version. However, I don’t want to try to understand everything.
A clean room adorned with imposing chandeliers welcomes me. This environment pleases me, especially the rococos ornaments. The places remind me of the castles of Potsdam. This impression is reinforced when I visit the small rooms that line up along a corridor. Two in particular attract my attention: the ‘red room’ and another, with silver decoration. The first for its fantasy and the second for its sober elegance.
The pieces are more beautiful than each other. Surprised by so many sculptures and ornaments of such richness, I tell myself that human genius is fascinating. The prince-bishops of Würzburg must have had enormous ambition.
After entering the garden room, which is distinguished by its wide finely decorated columns, I head towards the exit. Going back over the staircase, the painted ceiling, which was the largest in the world at the time, captivates me with its beauty and size. The human and animal figures symbolize the 4 continents.
Outside, in the well-maintained gardens of the Residence, I am happy to take a break in the greenery having worked my brain. Then, I drive aimlessly in squares and streets that start to come alive.
The traders’ stalls are set up in the market square. This scene reminds me of the markets I used to attend in Hamburg. They are less chaotic and calmer than in France, which lacks charm in my opinion.
I hope to be able to have lunch in a biergarten in the fortress. I pass by the bridge over the Main, which Hanna told me about. The entrance to the fortifications reveals itself to me.
A location offers a beautiful view of the vineyards and the city. On the asphalt path that crosses the vineyard, I see a jogger climb. Behind, the Main flows and the large buildings stand. From there, it is easy to distinguish the closely admired monuments this morning. The beauty of Würzburg surprises me.
I’m going back down towards the city center because the beer garden isn’t open. In a bakery at the end of the bridge, I order a snack and a glass of white wine, a Silvaner. Drinking wine on the deck attracts me because it’s an authentic experience.
The people, numerous on the work, are in a good mood and some drink wine. Next to me, a group of cyclists in their fifties are relaxing. They must be Swiss because I have trouble understanding them.
– “Where are you going?
– Not very far. We are from Munich and stay in the area.
– I will travel the Romantic Route and continue to Sankt Anton am Arlberg, Austria.
– It’s very beautiful there, especially the view of the mountains. We have electric bikes for the most part.”
They ask me a lot of questions and some make jokes. This conviviality around a drink is one of the things that I like about German culture.
One of the women tells me: “I rode my bike in Normandy and I had very good contacts with the French. When I was a child, there was animosity between the French and the Germans, because of History, but it’s in the past.”
Hearing this topic in a light discussion is a surprise. It’s the sign that it is important for this woman.
A little tipsy and filled by this warm exchange, I set off. Many signs mark the route. Suddenly, the rain starts to fall. I take shelter under the porch of a house that welcomes volunteer firefighters from the locality. Under the effect of wine and fatigue, I fall asleep.
Upon waking up, the rain has stopped. The road, an asphalt bike path, crosses beautiful wheat fields. I hear the noise of cars in the background, a somewhat unpleasant sound.
Suddenly, two bikes cross me. I raise my head and think: “It’s the French who are going to sleep tonight at my hosts’.”
“Hello, I believe you are going to sleep at the place of the people who welcomed me last night.”
The woman stops, while the man, on the double-pedaled bike, continues. The machine must be difficult to stop. We exchange about our respective journeys. She tells me that they are taking a one-year trip, but precisely. They might go to Italy and Greece afterwards. The woman is afraid to bivouac in Germany because she was told that the inhabitants would call the police if they saw a tent on their property. We’ll see.
In the late afternoon, I reach Wertheim, a village watered by the Main. Its historic center recalls the Middle Ages, with its cobbled streets, its churches and its sublime castle which sits in the greenery, above the center of the town.
At the exit of the city, a trail leaves the road and goes up through a field of wheat. A perfect place, sheltered by a tree, has flat ground. Only downside: the sounds of the road for cars are heard.
I set up my tent then sit on the bench that borders the cycle and pedestrian path. A trash can is there. Perfect! After the picnic, at sunset, I lie down in my tent, invisible from the slope, to read before sleeping.
An invitation at the bakery shop
The green landscapes parade before my eyes in the cool of the morning. It’s not yet too hot and nature seems to awaken. I join the Tauber River, which gives its name to the Tauber Radweg cycle path. It runs along the watercourse. I also see fields of wheat or corn as well as many apple trees. The apples seem to be calling me but I prefer not to take something that belongs to someone.
On the other hand, I stop in front of blackberries at the edge of the track, nestled in a large green mass. The mouth full of these fruits, I hear a voice: “They are on sale!”
Two cyclists pass me. Their joke makes me laugh.
Like many cyclists crossed so far, they are a retired couple. Soon after, I catch up with them.
– “Where are you going?
– We are going on a short outing to go shopping. And you?
– Füssen, I am walking the Romantic Road.”
The man looks very physically fit. The fact that he rides a bike without electric assistance at more than 70 years old marks me. His wife has an electric bike: “I need to follow him.”
Shortly after, they invite me to have a coffee at the next vile, Bad Mergentheim. We sit on the terrace of a bakery that belongs to an agricultural cooperative. They chose this place to support farmers. The large quantity and diversity of pastries and rolls in German bakeries impresses me. I choose a Möhn, like them. The man, Lothar, is from northern Germany and his wife, Sita, from the Netherlands.
We agree that the Germans claim their rights less than the French. Lothar thinks that the Peasants’ War (Bauernkrieg) which took place in the region from 1524 to 1526, still has consequences on today’s German mentalities. According to him, the failure of the peasants prevented future generations from rebelling against power.
The Peasants’ War
A vast popular revolt erupted in 1524, mainly in southern Germany. It has for cause the increase in taxes borne by the peasants, the abuses of the nobility and the lack of land. The insurgents got crushed by the armies of the nobles, that were better organized.
This trip is a way to wake up part of my past and therefore of me. Moreover, speaking German pleases me and the words come back well. When I speak this language, my personality changes. It’s distinct from the one that reveals itself with English, French, or Spanish. Concretely, I am more organized, less flexible and a little more distant.
“My father was a soldier on the eastern front, he was lucky to survive. When we met, the father of my wife, who was in the Dutch Resistance, did not see it very well.
It seems to me that it’s not insignificant for the subject to return. Germans of this generation are inclined to talk about it because they experienced, when they were young adults, the anti-German atmosphere. The French and Germans my age do not care. Moreover, the French are not interested in Germany in general. The same cannot be said of the Germans, who enjoy coming on vacation with us.
Around 1pm, I arrive in Röttingen, a wine village of the Tauber valley. I admire hillsides of vineyards bathed by the sun that surround the locality. I continue until I see a sign indicating a cellar. A woman talks to me about visiting the vineyards and explains that she and her husband, the winemaker, offer tastings.
I will return there after having lunch at the welcoming terrace of a restaurant. The meal, composed of spatzlis, typical pasta from southwestern Germany, and a glass of local white wine, refreshes me and knocks me out at the same time. As a result, I have to struggle on my bike to climb the asphalt road that forms a loop on the heights of the village. Under the intense sun, I advance in the climb surrounded by rows of vines.
Halfway along the route, I discover a bench in the shade, next to a small unoccupied winegrower’s cabin. I lie down and take a nap. Like yesterday, the alcohol hit me. It might be a good thing to recover from the efforts of the morning.
Upon waking up, I tell myself to go do the tasting because the woman from the property helped me. In her entrance, she accompanies me in front of the counter and shows me the wine list. Out of caution, I choose 2 white wines, even if a red from a typical grape variety from the Franconian region attracts me. Hanna had advised me to stick to the white one.
When I take out my wallet, the friendly woman tells me that a small tasting is free. Impossible to carry a bottle because of the weight.
On the track along the Tauber, there are many cyclists. The vast majority have to go out during the day because their equipment is light. Moreover, most are people of a certain age, riding electric bikes.
After crossing several villages, Rothenburg ob der Tauber appears. From the track, I admire the fortified city that rises into the sky. Medieval towers protrude from the high walls. I am delighted to have reached my goal for the day.
Inside, the half-timbered houses, towers and churches create a medieval decor. The cobbled streets seem to have the same appearance as at the time. The city-museum attracts tourists, including Asians and Americans. From a peaceful garden that borders the wall, I admire the view of the valley and notice the road taken 30 minutes earlier.
Informative signs are placed in front of the entrance towers and other monuments. They provide information on the past of the city, which became an important center of the Holy Roman Empire in the Middle Ages. However, I am frustrated not to have a global vision of the medieval history of the region. For example, I don’t know how the Empire was organized and who ruled.
After a break on the town hall square, a beautiful 16th century Renaissance building, I have a picnic in a quiet street. It’s almost night, so it’s time to leave to join the Romantic Road heading south.
Away from the urban area, I see a small path that leaves the bike lane and leads to an orchard, at the edge of a stream. The grass is a bit high but the trees will house the tent. Moreover, pedestrians and cyclists will not be able to see me from the track.
Meeting the guardians of the past
The golden and green decor is revealed under the morning sun. It’s a delight to ride in the middle of immense fields. I smell flavors of hay and forest.
After 1 hour of driving, I arrive at Schillingsfürst. In front of the tourist office of the village, I read a sign that traces the history of the locality and evokes notably lords who reigned there in the Middle Ages. All villages should offer this information for visitors to see.
When I tell the woman at the reception that I like this text, she smiles. Joyful and welcoming, she explains to me how to reach the castle then join the Romantic Road.
I follow his advice and take a street that goes up, where I have to go ashore. However, in front of the castle gate, I discover that it only opens in 45 minutes.
The Warmshowers host who was supposed to welcome me doesn’t respond to me. I send messages to other people nearby, without much hope.
The road, most often reserved for cyclists and pedestrians, crosses forests, fields of wheat or corn and meadows, in a hilly landscape. Moreover, in small villages, I see tractors and barns, and sometimes cows.
In Feuchtwangen, I take a break at a café on the main square, surrounded by beautiful half-timbered houses. My bike is placed against the monument of the fountain, next to 2 electric bikes. This pause reminds me of a stop made in a Catalan village on the Pirinexus. The atmosphere is just as peaceful.
After having walked a circuit advised by the tourist office to discover the historical attractions of the village, here I am again on the main square. 2 cyclists have lunch on a bench, their gravel next to them. Attracted and curious, I feel like breaking the isolation. The girl goes into the bakery.
– “Are you doing the Romantic Road?
– Yes but we started yesterday in Rothenburg ob der Tauber.
– Great! There are few cyclists who do the route over several days, I have the impression.
– Yes, we mainly met people over 70 years old on electric bikes.”
The girl returns and sits after saying something in Italian to her partner. I’m going shopping at the supermarket. We will surely see each other on the way. It reminds me of my meeting with a retired couple at the beginning of the Pirinexus that I had not encountered afterwards.
In the supermarket, I am surprised to see very few German apples, in a region where there are many apple trees. Most come from Chile and Spain.
Then, I visit the Franconian museum, supposed to be one of the best in the region. A woman over 70 years old greets me politely and explains the tour route. I hesitated to do this activity. It might take too much concentration and the route may not please me.
– “Do you speak Fränkisch?
– Yes of course, it’s our culture. It’s important to pass it on to the children.”
In the museum, I discover beautiful furniture in rooms that recreate the place where the inhabitants lived several hundred years ago. The Rococos decorations and everyday objects, including beautiful and large pipes, please. The pipes remind me of imperial Germany and the stories of soldiers from the first world war, like In the West nothing new.
There are also entire display cases dedicated to stoneware or ceramic beer mugs. These decorated objects are a symbol of traditional Germany and remind me of good times spent in beer gardens, when I lived in the country.
After the visit, I exchange with the museum employee. She tells me that it would please her if I wrote a word on the guest book, especially because I am French. I comply.
“There was a lot of animosity between the Germans and the French when I was young. My father was a soldier in France. We cannot erase what happened, changes take time. My granddaughter is going to visit her French correspondent in Paris. They meet an American girl there.”
Suddenly, I see emotion on her face. “It’s good that it has changed,” I say.
Her testimony moves me. It shows that reconciliation with the French is important in Germany among the people of this generation. I tell myself that the Germans love France more than the French love Germany.
The woman gives me the name of the French commune twinned with Feuchtwangen. Several villages, not to say all, that I have crossed have a sign at the entrance displaying the name of a twinned French commune. I don’t want to dwell on discussing this sad period even though this exchange enriched me. The museum visit was worth it, if only for it.
The route passes through varied landscapes, from shaded forests to plains covered with fields as far as the eye can see. Moreover, I have the impression that there is always a wind turbine in sight. One of them appears at the edge of the runway, in a clearing. This immense monster with moving blades impresses me. I have never seen it up close.
In Dinkelsbühl, I admire the long row of half-timbered houses and, at the back, the church. Good humor and lightness reign around the terraces of cafes and full bars. The inscriptions in Gothic letters on the colorful facades please me. It’s the most beautiful village since the beginning of the journey. Let’s imagine 2 seconds. There are no more cars, nor road signs and interphones at the doors. One might think we are in a tale from the Middle Ages.
At the exit of the magnificent city, I see a path that leads through fields, away from the road. At the edge of a forest, a place seems suitable for setting up my tent. It’s very easy to find places to bivouac on the Route Romantique.
At sunset, I’m going to eat my picnic in the bare field. A can of beans, cheese, an apple. These simple moments please me.
Hanna, my host Warmshowers in Augbsourg, suggests that I leave my belongings at her and her partner’s place since they will not be at the apartment on Saturday morning. I can’t wait to meet them.
Suddenly, I hear and see a tractor on the other side of the field. I act as if nothing had happened. Should I pretend not to speak German if the owner bothers me?
He walks around and approaches me. The elderly man is smiling.
“Can I set up my tent here for the night here?”
With a strong accent of Franconia, in r-rolls, he tells me that he doesn’t mind. He seems delighted to see a French person. It’s not the owner, he owns the land next door. He wishes me a safe journey and disappears.
Then I will finish my dinner in a wooden observation tower in the corner of the field. It’s surely a place for hunters. While I am enjoying the sunset view, an agricultural device appears. A man and a child are visible inside. They cut grass around the field. Working at 8:30 PM, what a job! They pass in front of me without saying anything, bypass my tent then leave the place.
At 6:30in the morning, I leave my tent after a less peaceful night than the previous ones. I shouldn’t have looked at my phone before going to bed.
In the observation tower, I find the food that I left there, away from the tent, as every evening. The sound of muddy water tells me it’s time to turn off my stove. I accompany my tea with madeleines and an apple.
There are many apple trees on the edge of the track. I see several that do not seem to be part of private land. It looks like they are available for cyclists. This time, I stop and pick a small red and green apple. When I bite in it, the sugar that enters my body refreshes me, as if it were exactly what my body was asking for after spending an hour cycling.
In a small locality located in the middle of valleys and fields, a sign bears a black sign of the Romantic Road. After following him, I join an isolated gravel path. It seems suspicious to me. There are no signs bearing the bicycle symbol for several hundred meters.
I turn around then, again surrounded by houses, notices a cyclist equipped with 2 luggage carrier bags. It seems to me to see a phone on his handlebar.
“Are you doing the Romantic Route?”
His appearance is that of a bicycle traveler. He is poorly shaved and tanned, and his frame is suitable for long-distance trips.
We talk about our travels, a topic of conversation that pleases me and creates complicity, solidarity. One of his trips, in Sweden, lasted 2 months. Listening to him, it seems like this trip pleased him. It’s one of the destinations that attract me the most, for its natural immensities and its Scandinavian culture.
In Nördlingen, I suggest to make a stop to have a coffee. We sit on the terrace next to the huge village church and discuss our lives. Dennis is German and lives in Freiburg. He took a professional break for several months to decide what he wanted to do with his life, by traveling by bike. He has just returned to work as an educator for children with disabilities.
«There is no time to lose, I need to do things that I like and make sense for me.»
It’s a good idea to wonder what I want. However, not having any professional activity or project for 1 year would bother me. The reason is not only financial. In fact, I think we need less money than we think to live. It’s more about having intellectual stimulations.
After the coffee, I continue my way while Dennis stays in Nördlingen. The heat is starting to bother me. My sports t-shirt sticks to my back and the sweat beads on my forehead. It’s a good thing to have chosen Germany and not Spain, my initial project, for this August vacation.
In the medieval village of Harburg, people in swimsuits lie on the banks of the river Lech. I go shopping at the supermarket then return to the small lawn that borders the stream.
It’s spanned by a beautiful bridge located a few tens of meters away, right in the center of the village. The fortified castle sits on the heights of the locality. I don’t feel like visiting it because there are many villages with a rich cultural heritage on my itinerary.
After lunch, I bathe in the cold water of the Lech, which acts as a shower. The river will accompany me for a long time, which makes me happy. I feel physically fit and in particular my legs are muscular but there is a problem: pain in the right knee appears. As a result, I focus on stretching my leg to the maximum, placing my heel as close to the ground as possible, with each pedal stroke.
Under the warming sun, I join a gravel road that borders the main national road. I must have taken the wrong path again. However, given the position of the sun in front of me, the direction is correct. The noise of cars and the lack of shade make the journey unpleasant. Moreover, I fear that my skin is exposed to the sun. Let’s stop to put some sunscreen.
10 minutes later, here I am again under the cycle path that passes under the trees. It leads to Donauwörth. The small city watered by the Danube pleases me. The typical bell tower of the region attracts me. I go to the large church perched on a hill but it’s closed. I want to enter a church in Augsburg tomorrow.
Shortly after leaving the village, I discover a beer garden. I stop without thinking too much. To the right of the entrance, long wooden tables occupy the space. Germans eat, sitting on benches. In the building that hosts the counter and kitchens, there is a queue. Vegetarian dishes must be rare here.
I listen to the cheerful waitress who speaks while rolling the r. This accent, which is not heard in northern Germany, where I lived, pleases me. A young man next to her serves beers.
«An alcool-free Weizen please! Can I recharge my phone somewhere?»
Sitting on the shaded terrace while my laptop battery is charging, I savor this refreshing drink and enjoy the friendly atmosphere. No doubt, we are in Germany. The customers, beers on the tables, must be locals. The plates filled with typical Bavarian dishes, such as knödels, leberkäse and pretzels, are visible on the tables.
I’m hesitating to drink a second beer. The road calls me and I need to drive a few more kilometers to get closer to Augsburg. This evening, it would be nice to sleep away from the noise of cars.
I drive 20 minutes to an area covered with corn fields. The paths that enter the fields are prohibited access. Suddenly, I see the Danube, wider than the Lech. There is enough room at the edge of the stream to place my tent, but it’s still too close to the road.
I continue until a dirt road that plunges into the farmland. At the edge of a field is a pond. The place is ideal because it’s quiet and offers a beautiful view of the water. While setting up my tent, I enjoy the sound of fish jumping in the water and toads singing in unison. This evening, I have time to read.
An unforgettable evening with my Warmshowers hosts
In the morning, after crossing the Danube, I reach the Lech. The landscape changes. There are more and more refreshing forests and fewer and fewer fields. Around 12:30 PM, the first houses of Augsburg appear. I arrive exhausted 30 minutes later at Hannah’s apartment.
I read ‘ahoi’ on the front door and discover in the beautifully decorated apartment photos of Sankt Pauli, in Hamburg. Hannah or her boyfriend must have lived there, like me. It makes me smile. I can’t wait to meet them.
Modern comfort, meaning a shower, a roof, a washing machine and a sofa, is appreciable. People no longer notice these advantages of our city life.
In the living room, my host took out butter, bread, and peppers. The hospitality between cyclists is precious and warms my heart. At what time in daily life can one stay with strangers for free?
Then, towards the city center. A tavern, supposedly the oldest restaurant in Augsburg, welcomes me on its terrace, at the edge of a small square. The places remind me of the Saint-Pierre district in Bordeaux because there are many restaurants, cafes, and tourists, including foreigners.
In the square, I notice a display of a ‘vegan butcher shop’. Bavarian specialties, such as leberkäse and white sausage, are offered in a vegetable version, to take away. As a vegetarian, I am delighted to have found this place because it allows me to enjoy the regional gastronomic heritage.
On the terrace, I chose knödels accompanied by a mushroom sauce, one of the 2 vegetable dishes on the menu. The beer and the heat are starting to have an effect. I am enjoying the moment and the food without fuss. I don’t want a busy cultural visits program.
The vegan butcher offers varied dishes, from sausages to cheese and fish. The leberkäse that I order pleases me because its taste resembles that of a classic leberkäse. The waitress tells me that it is made from sunflower and another plant that I don’t know.
On the immense square where the tourist office is located, I see a poster celebrating the 470-year anniversary of the “Peace of Augsburg”. Google tells me that the capital of Bavarian Swabia was the place where a peace treaty between Catholics and Protestants was signed. Generally speaking, Christian religious signs have been present in number on my path since I left. There are crosses accompanied by small monuments at the entrance of the villages.
In the tourist office, a young man about 20 years old presents me with the main attractions. Namely several churches, the town hall and, above all, a place called Fuggerei. The leaflet he gave me tells me that it is the oldest set of social housing in the world, created in 1521 for poor Catholic citizens.
The status of the capital of the Swabian district questions me. Do the inhabitants speak Swabian? I thought this region was located in the Land of Bad Württenberg.
In front of the city hall, I discover that the building is closed to the public due to construction work. A heavy door allows entry into a room in which photos of the building’s interior are displayed. The golden room and its brightly colored decorations attract my attention. The richness of its decorations is impressive. A virtual tour is broadcasted but it doesn’t interest me. The shopping area looks like that of any German city. The store chains occupy the concrete space trampled by many pedestrians on this Saturday afternoon.
While walking aimlessly, I come across the Sankt Moritz church. At the entrance, a gentleman opens the door for me: “It’s not a museum, it’s a bit special.”
Inside, the delicious freshness hits me and the decor surprises me. There are no benches or seats. The white on white decoration gives a museum look to the places. I wonder if any masses are held here.
I see a man lying on a green ottoman holding his phone. At the back of the building, there are other ottomans. Without thinking, I grab one, throw it to the side and lie down. That’s all I needed.
Before returning to the apartment, I am going to do some shopping at the supermarket in their neighborhood. I need beer and, in the immense space of the supermarket dedicated to this alcohol, the quantity of different brands impresses me. I choose the Holsten, a brewery in Hamburg, as it will suit the decoration of their apartment.
«Are you Pierre?»
A young girl in a cyclist outfit, on her bike, appears as I look at my phone sitting on a bench of the residence. She is immediately friendly to me. Finally, I have social contacts with a local with whom I can spend an entire evening. My host is originally from Hamburg and moved to Augsburg with his ex-boyfriend. From now on, she lives with Alex, her boyfriend, in this beautiful ground-floor apartment that exudes love and comfort. We see the personality of the 2 people through the decoration and the objects.
Hannah and I prepare dinner together and I feel close to her for several reasons. She is a vegetarian, avoids flying and makes long-distance bike trips in Europe. For example, she drove in Greece, Sweden and Sardinia. While I peel vegetables, I talk to her about my life in Bordeaux and tell her about my past bike trips. She experienced encountering aggressive stray dogs in Greece, like me in Chalkidiki. Also, we don’t talk about our work. It’s better this way.
The dinner, taken outside, is a delicious moment of laughter and exchanges. Alex tells me that the inhabitants of Augsburg feel as much Swabian as Bavarian. He does not speak the regional language because his parents are from Romania. Moreover, Hannah finds that this provincial town is bourgeois and conservative, like the rest of Bavaria. What she likes here is the beauty of the natural landscapes of the region that she explores by bike. Then I tell myself that the nature here is magnificent and that it is easy to discover by driving.
– « It’s a shame that the French don’t know Germany well. Germans are present in numbers in the Bordeaux region, particularly on the beaches.
– How is Bordeaux?
– The city has historically had a reputation for being bourgeois and conservative, but the atmosphere has changed because the city attracts people from all over France who want to enjoy its quality of life. People live outside, there is a holiday atmosphere and the terraces are very busy.
– That’s why we love Spain, Italy, and France.”
In the footsteps of Louis II of Bavaria
My physical and mental batteries are full. I leave around 7am in the morning. The objective of the day is to travel 130 km to reach the surroundings of the castle of Neuschwanstein.
Walking along the sublime Lech river reassures me and pleases me. I ride about 55 km until Landsberg am Lech. While walking around, I see a shopkeeper in lederhosen, the Bavarian leather panty, on the doorstep of his shop. Around the village, the majestic mountains rise. The town also has a beautiful bridge over the river and colorful old houses.
At lunchtime, Google Maps shows me an attractive biergarten. What I like about these places that do not exist in France is the authentic food, the attractive setting and the friendly atmosphere.
The restaurant has a small inner courtyard. A jovial gentleman with a Bavarian accent, surely both a cook and an owner, recommends to me knödels made from a vegetable whose German name I don’t know. Let’s try this, accompanied by a beer. The biergarten is located at the back of the courtyard, along the wall. There is no one sitting at the big tables under the leafy trees.
I am delighted to enjoy the freshness while resting my knee. The knödels are of better quality than most of those I have eaten in the past. The two balls placed on a very hot plate and accompanied by melted butter seem to be waiting for me to devour them.
I have been looking at my phone too often since the beginning of the trip and yesterday’s evening was a welcome break. This object is an obstacle to social relations and it is not easy to detoxify. In any case, it takes time. I tell myself that I am lucky to be able to make this trip, I drive slowly and look, feel, and listen to everything around me.
In the afternoon, the green pastures are revealed to me, succeeding the fields of wheat or corn. Suddenly, in an open area, I see the mountains in the distance. This vision has a charming character, especially because I have never set foot in the Alps. The route then leaves the Lech river. It goes through small villages with houses adorned with carved wooden balconies and flowers.
I admire the horses, cows, or goats that graze in the meadows. In the middle of a descent that crosses a stretch of freshly cut grass, I close my eyes. An apple scent is felt. It must come from grass.
My knee hurts, especially when it’s necessary to push for gravel on gentle slopes. I slow down the pace to not aggravate my injury which, I hope, will be healed by spending a few days of rest in Bordeaux.
In Halblech, a village in the Allgäu nestled in the Pre-Alps, I discover a typical gasthaus. I would like to talk to the people sitting at the tables around me, but don’t. The atmosphere, although friendly, is not ideal to exchanges with strangers. I feel more comfortable doing it in Spain, even if it’s not an excuse.
The road goes up and then down in places and passes through areas of coniferous or pine forests. Shortly before Schwangau, I deviate from the road for cars and reach an open cattle gate. I set up my tent under a tree, avoiding being too close to the noisy stream. This place is not beautiful, but it’s quiet.
Happy to have successfully completed the planned journey today, I lie down on my mat avoiding the large stones that form bumps on the ground of my tent. Tomorrow, I only have a few kilometers left to drive downhill to the castle of Neuschwanstein.
The noises of animals in nature no longer worry me when I sleep in a tent. I even like them. When I hear the call of a deer or the sounds of a small animal, I am delighted to live in harmony with the wildlife. I don’t bother them and neither do they.
At 7am, driving again on the downhill track, I see a white shape in the distance, perched in the thick forest on the mountain side. It might be the castle, but I imagined it bigger. Past Schwangau, the building becomes bigger and bigger in my eyes as I get closer.
Then, the road goes up and leads to a building where tickets are sold. A few days before my departure, I decided to buy tickets online but there were no more until the end of August. I was advised to come at 8 o’clock, when the counters opened, to try to get some. Visiting the castle would be nice because I’m on site, but it’s not a very important activity in my eyes because several people on my trip said that it was not great. On the other hand, I was told that the view of the building from outside was magnificent.
After waiting in tong queue that leaves the modern building, I get a ticket for a guided tour with entry at 11:15. While waiting for the guided tour, I go to the Marienbrücke, a bridge from which one should be able to admire a superb view of the castle. While climbing the climb on foot, I tell myself that my knee would not have appreciated crossing it by bike.
The bridge is crowded and this pile of people makes me uncomfortable. I enter the narrow structure, surrounded by tourists. To my left, the castle of Neuschwanstein is revealed. Below the bridge, there is an impressive chasm. This view and the traffic jam that formed on the bridge make me turn around. I feel the wooden planks move under my feet. Among the people busy taking photos, I reach the end of the bridge, I return to the castle.
There, a young man, whose accent suggests he is German, greets us in English. The guide must repeat the same words several times a day.
Ludwig II’s masterpiece
The location of the castle on a rocky peak and the richness of the decorations inside are breathtaking. In each room, the guide explains its function. Ludwig II admired King Saint-Louis for his faith and had him represented in several places. The guide specifies that Louis II would have been homosexual.
After 40 minutes of a visit that disappoints me with its superficiality, I hit the road again, delighted to get back on my bike. A few minutes later, here I am in Füssen, the arrival point of the Romantic Route. At the tourist office, I’m told that a cycle path, the Lech Radweg, passes here and runs along the river. It stops before my goal, Sankt Anton am Arlberg.
“It will surely be necessary to complete the journey on the road for cars,” the employee tells me at the reception.
Füssen offers a similar setting to the villages crossed in the last few days, except that there are more people. I walk in the small cobbled streets lined with cafes and restaurants. Then, after having eaten a picnic in the shade and calmly, I join the bike path.
The Tyroleans who live in a postcard setting
After crossing the Austrian border, I notice people swimming in turquoise water. Towels are scattered at the edge of the small lake. It’s time to enjoy.
The mountains surround me and the place is bathed by the sun. It’s one of the best baths of my life. Moreover, the setting reminds me of the movie Stranger by the Lake, except that the people present are families and heterosexual couples. Moreover, I’m excited to find myself in a country never visited before.
At 6:15 PM, I decide to stop to pitch my tent. The place is on the edge of a deserted hiking path that moves away from the asphalt trail. It offers a view of the river and the mountains.
After dinner, I have time to read before the sun sets. This activity relaxes and enriches me. Returning to material simplicity pleases me, that is to say eating in a tin can, sleeping in a tent and having breakfast without frills in nature.
The next morning, I discover the setting at the rising sun, a beautiful orange color. The knee pain is gradually felt after the first pedal strokes. Fortunately, I have planned 2 days to cover the Austrian portion of my trip, which will span over about 120 km in the mountains.
I gaze at the surroundings. These are the peaks in the background, the pastures and forests as well as the turquoise-colored Lech, never far from me.
In Steeg, I take a break in a bakery to have a coffee and recharge my phone. There are about twenty cyclists there, with an Austrian or Bavarian accent. Their t-shirt, with the inscription “Over 50 years”, makes me think that they are part of an amateur cycling club. I park my bicycle in the middle of the electric bikes arranged on the sidewalk.
The terrace sheltered by parasols faces one of the many opulent hotels in the small town. Suddenly, a couple of German cyclists arrive. I see saddlebags and a tent on their gravel. I want to talk to them to learn more about their journey but don’t dare, maybe partly because they have a cold and tense conversation. Don’t want to bother them.
It reminds me that two-person cycling trips should not be easy, especially if people have different speed. Cycling alone doesn’t bother me, if the trip lasts no more than 2 weeks.
The region is a heaven for outdoor sport lovers. Many hikers, equipped with walking sticks, walk through the streets. At the exit of the village, I also see a man and his son getting out of a Porsche registered in Vienna, about to get into a canoe.
The bike path stops at Lech, a ski resort. Hikers climb the mountain in eggs that move slowly. I notice a cable car “station” in the main street. It is lined with luxurious hotels, cafes and sports shops.
In front of the tourist office, a woman about 70 years old sits next to me, waiting for her bus. She is wearing hiking shoes and a backpack. Hiking at this age, near her living place, must keep fit.
– “Do you come from this region?
– Yes. You don’t have an electric bike?
– At my age, it’s normal.
– Still! Today, electric bikes are everywhere!”
After wandering around the station, I settle down at a café. I want to do nothing except read and relax because that’s what holidays are for.
The journey continues on a national road. It goes up in switchbacks, without being very steep. I like the scenery and I tell myself that I like driving on roads for cars in the mountains. It’s a shame that this one is so busy. The cars are speeding past me, which makes the climb unpleasant. Suddenly, a tunnel appears. A sign at the entrance informs me that it is 400 m long. I turn on my dynamo integrated into the wheel and accelerate on the dimly lit lane. The noise from cars is amplified and when one of them passes me, I feel like I’m on an F1 circuit.
Where to sleep? Not easy since it is necessary to move away from the road bordered by the steep sides of the mountains. I notice a hiking trail but a no-go sign, under which is written ‘Cyclists too’, blocks access. As a typical Frenchman, I commit anyway. At that moment, men are calling me from the other side of the road. They show me the sign. I pretend not to have understood the meaning and return on my path. The Austrians are indeed the cousins of the Germans.
Shortly after crossing the Flexen pass, at an altitude of 1,773 m, I find a hiking trail that leads to a ravine. The area is deserted and sublime because it offers a view of the wild mountains. The sloping terrain is bounded by a rough fence. On the other side, I see the peaks and the road that winds down. There is little risk of falling during the night while sleeping.
The noise of cars passing through the tunnel below is becoming increasingly rare. The peaks, the vegetation and the calm form a setting that invites to be happy. Suddenly, I see a chamois on a ridge. His silhouette stands out in the blue sky. In a twinkling of an eye, he disappears.
Sitting in the grass, I think of Sylvain Tesson. This nature lover, who loves his freedom and independence above all else, has just published a book on the rocky peaks in the sea. After eating, sitting on the grass, I lie down in the tent to read and then go out to enjoy my last evening in the countryside.
In the morning, I start my day by descending into a tunnel that’s 1.5 km long. There are few cars, which allows me to go fast. Then, the climb begins. I like these efforts and my reduced pace invites me to take the time to enjoy the natural scenery.
After a final descent, Sankt Anton am Arlberg appears. The posh ski resort of Tyrol awakens. I see an unbelievable number of 4-star hotels accompanied by sunny terraces. It makes me want to stay here, even if I’m not interested in winter sports. The places must then have a different, but charming appearance.
The village is located not far from Davos, in Switzerland, where the book I am reading at the moment is set: The magic moutain, by Thomas Mann. I am delighted to be in the setting that looks like the one of this novel that I like.
The part of my trip in the Austrian Alps was less difficult than I thought. I end the journey in a very different setting from my starting point. It’s one of the things I like about cycling tourism: seeing several regions in a single trip.
Have you ever been to Germany? Why did you choose this destination? What marked you in this country? Say it in the comments!
