Unexpectedly Mary
Okay, so you want something to read and its a digital first this week, the first part of my first ever printed book, Unexpectedly Mary, is offered up for your enjoyment. In case you've not come across this little tale it's a bit of a travelogue with a twist, Mark - the lead character, embarks on a cycling trip along the German Romantic Road and - well you'll have to read it to find out what happens next!
I'm not intending to do weekly postings of it, it may take many, many months before you see anymore on here, the best way to read the whole thing - complete with pictures, is to get yourselves a copy of the book in either paper or digi format by heading to Scaramouch Books. As an incentive you can currently save 25% off the list price of the print version making it a great gift option for the forthcoming season!
Chapter 1
Mark queued up with a sense of excitement and a degree of impatience. This trip was going to be one of those things you remember forever, the fact that he'd used all his savings and every bit of spare cash he had to make it happen was immaterial. For over a year he'd been planning his route, the accommodation and budget. The queue shuffled forward again. It was the culmination of a dream and a desire to do something a bit more adventurous than a week in Lanzarote for the annual hols.
He looked around him at the crowds in the check in hall, the families off for some Spanish sun, businessmen - and women, in suits with the bored look of regular travellers, a few back packers. He smiled to himself as his particular journey really will be exciting, no fall back's, just a necessity to get to Munich airport in a fortnight's time. Then it was his turn, the check in girl efficiently sorted out the paperwork for his bike and he checked his small case in leaving him with just his hand luggage. Having flown once before he knew the drill but the excitement was starting to get to him. Through security then another queue for immigration, yes! It really felt like he was on his way at last.
There was best part of an hour before the Bonn flight was due to be called, time enough to stock up on duty free batteries and get a cuppa. None of his family or friends thought he'd ever do it - with some reason. After all he'd been talking about doing a trip like this for years but there was always a reason to put it off. He pulled his iPaq out of his bag and for the third time today looked over his plans. Once more he went over the route and mentally went over his preparations.
There was his bike of course, his biggest expense for the trip, 24 gears, custom spec, in fact it was unique. Over the last few months he'd scoured the Internet and outdoor shops to get just the right stuff, the super lightweight tent, even titanium stove to shave those few extra grams. Yep, there was no denying that he'd done his homework with the kit. He opened the budget file, not that he needed to - having studied it and tweaked it for weeks. He'd factored in everything he could think of from accommodation to on the road snacks. Having ruled out staying in hotels for the whole trip due to cost, the combination of hotels and camping meant there was a bit more cash available but not a fortune.
His main doubt however had nothing to do with kit or money; no it was his ability that preyed on his mind. Although a regular cyclist it was mostly the commute to work, for the next fortnight he had to cover something like 1000 kilometres! Quite a challenge. Like most travellers he worried about his luggage, particularly his precious bike but when the flight was called his only concern was getting on the plane. The sight of the bike box and his case on the pile of luggage at the rear of the plane was reassuring and he happily settled in for the hour or so flight across the Channel and Belgium to Ká¶ln / Bonn Airport. There was a bit of a queue to clear immigration but soon he was out to the baggage reclaim, with the hold up at passport control, the bags were already on the allocated carousel. There was his case and a brief stop at the control desk delivered his bike box.
Now the madness started. He pushed the trolley laden with case, bag and bike out into the concourse and found a quiet corner for the next manoeuvre. So far things were going well and when the bike emerged from its cocoon things still looked good. Ten minutes refitting wheels, pumping tyres and adjusting a few bits had Foxy; well some people name their cars so why not a bike, Foxy was ready to roll. If things continued to run to plan he'd be in Frankfurt for dinner! He clicked the case onto the rear carrier, what a neat idea, a decent sized case with fixings for a bike rack!
He wheeled Foxy out to the bus stands; you didn't think he was planning on riding from Ká¶ln to Frankfurt did you? The bus to Bonn arrived and unlike at home, the driver actually helped get Foxy onboard for the thirty-minute ride to Bonn city centre. Mark checked his Pda, fifteen minutes to get the ticket for the train journey down to Frankfurt.
He sank into a seat on the upper deck of the busy Rhine Express, would the journey be anything like the Rhine Valley train sim he'd been playing? The train, full of Saturday shoppers, eased out of Bonn Hauptbahnhof to start the almost three hour ride down to Frankfurt / Main. After the rush of the airport and railway station he could relax for the first time in hours. 'This really is Germany, I've done it!' he smiled to himself letting the meaningless to him chatter of the coach wash over him, 'yep Mark Jenkins has really arrived, roll on Frankfurt!'
As the train headed south alongside the muddy waters of the Rhein it spewed forth passengers at every stop, hey the stopping train was €50 cheaper than the ICE for the same journey, so what if it takes forty minutes longer. By the time it stopped at Koblenz the carriage was fairly empty, a few long distance travellers like himself, stayed on board, a few more people joined them and then they were off again. The August sunshine glittered off the river, Mark stared intently out at the passing scenery as the train headed down through the Rhein gorge. A toilet and bike check run caused him to miss the departure from the riverside and a scant few minutes later the train pulled into Mainz Bahnhof. Collecting Foxy, there was a frantic dash across to gleis 56 for the connection on to Frankfurt on the S-Bahn - it looked just like another train to Mark.
It was however a smaller urban train, but Mark was impressed by the large bike storage area, with retaining straps even! The doors hissed shut and after crossing the mighty Rhein the four-car train sped East towards Frankfurt. At some point all the travelling caught up with him and Mr. Jenkins dropped off only to be woken by a flurry of activity. The train made a slow final approach into the terminus and Mark emerged onto the station concourse to find a bright but cooling evening sun bathing the city. He checked his map - tonight would be a hotel night as there was a bus to catch at seven in the morning! After a couple of false starts he tracked down the Ibis that he'd booked on the 'net a month ago.
Foxy was locked away for the night and a weary Mark dragged his bags up to his third floor room. He collapsed onto the bed and luxuriated in the lack of movement. Once again he congratulated himself on getting this far. Tomorrow the adventure gets started with a vengeance; tonight it's shower, dinner and an early night! The shower was hot, powerful and relaxing and he felt pretty good when he'd finished. He swung the case up onto the bed and unzipped the lid and pushed the top back.
'What the hells going on? This isn't my stuff!' He started to pull stuff out, this most definitely wasn't his kit, and closing the top he checked the obligatory label. 'Noooooo!' It can't be! How could someone else have the same case? The name on the label was Anna Freund but the address section was ripped off, that means that this Anna person has my case. Bum! All thoughts of dinner were forgotten as he confirmed the contents of his other bags. Ten minutes later and things were somewhat clearer. All the camping gear was present, likewise the camera and documents, no what was missing was, apart from a few maps, all clothing. In short he had what he had travelled in today plus, thankfully, his bike shoes.
Day one and a disaster already. What to do though? Its not like he was near the airport still and there's no telling where this Anna Freund was headed. The desk staff in the hotel were very helpful, an hour later he'd spoken to the airline, no his case hadn't been handed in, in the meantime he was to look after Ms Freund's bag. This is going to put a strain on resources, two weeks with one set of clothes isn't going to happen and even if the right case turns up, how, without abandoning the trip could he collect it? He stared at the offending piece of luggage, of all the luck, two identical cases on his flight!
Sunday morning dawned dry and bright, Mark assembled his kit, including the' borrowed' and after a quick breakfast, reclaimed Foxy and headed for the railway station. It only took ten minutes of traffic free riding and he arrived at the same time as the bus that would carry him onto Wá¼rzburg. The Romantische StraáŸe Express runs daily between Frankfurt and Fá¼ssen, one journey north, one south with connections to Munich and Ulm from Augsburg. Mark had decided to do the southward run of the German Romantic Road; the bus would take him the 100 plus kilometres from Frankfurt to the northern terminus at Wá¼rzburg. With Foxy stowed on the bike rack and his kit in a side locker, he settled in for the one hour thirty ride across the Spessart region.
Today the adventure really starts! The bus arrived at the city of Wá¼rzburg on time, the streets were still airing and there were few people around. It wouldn't be ideal but Mark zipped off his trouser legs to make shorts and after a short ride around the city centre set out to start his odyssey. The map wasn't totally clear, he missed the turning and had to retrace, but he was soon climbing up past the Marienberg Citadel and away from the River Main. The day was looking promising and even with his clothing problem, he had a lightness of heart, an excitement at finally starting the trail.
It was a fair old gradient, not much in the way of traffic, but as the first real riding since arriving in Germany it was a rude awakening! He emerged from the trees and found himself on a wide dual carriageway, the Wá¼rzburg bypass a stark counterpoint to the old road. Then, there on the grass banking was the sign he'd been planning on seeing for so long, the start of the Deutches Romantische StraáŸe! That was cause for a [welcome] stop to take a picture, welcome as he was already perspiring freely!
He took the opportunity to check the map, about another kilometre; he'd set the bike computer to show km's, then a left turn off the main drag. Does this hill never end? Well eventually the road spat him out into rolling countryside and once over the Frankfurt autobahn the road swept him southwards. The early morning promise lost the clear skies and became increasingly overcast, although the temperature remained fairly constant. The traffic remained fairly light - the odd tractor, a police car, an old guy creaking along on an ancient roadster who gave a cheery wave as Mike sped along. Foxy was performing beautifully, the unaccustomed weight forgotten after the climb out of Wá¼rzburg.
According to the map there was a motorway nearby, the occasional sound of traffic blew across the plain but the road itself remained somewhere just out of sight. The road slipped away and seemingly in minutes but in reality nearly two hours after leaving Wá¼rzburg, the road started to dip and Foxy started to pick up pace. By the time the rooves of Tauberbischoffsheim hove into view the speedo was hovering around the 50kph mark, a passing camper van gave Mark a panicked moment setting Foxy into a bit of a speed wobble. The brakes came on and it was a slightly more sober rider who ten minutes later steered his steed into the still quiet streets of Tauberbischoffsheim.
This was more like it, chocolate box buildings and cobbled streets; Wá¼rzburg was brash by comparison! To be honest though there wasn't a lot to see, the place has a lot of history but lacks a focal point. After a few photo's Mark decided to press on, it's still a fair way up the Taubertal to tonight's stop at Rothenburg. At least following the river should keep the ride fairly flat!
Picking up the cycle route avoided using too much of the main road although it had a nasty tendency to disappear through the villages and swap from one side of the road to the other. But although overcast it was still quite warm and he happily hummed Bohemian Rhapsody to himself as Foxy gobbled up the kilometres. The next town, Bad Mergentheim, was in a bit of uproar with road works and diversions, which somehow took him past the centre. Ah well, its not far to the next likely lunch stop. The road was narrower than he expected, less travelled too although there was a definite increase in the amount of two wheeled traffic.
The map showed a likely place to eat at Weikersheim but shortly before reaching the village of Igersheim the heavens opened and a stop for the donning of waterproofs was in order. The cycle route chose this point to move onto trail alongside the railway line running a short distance from the road, not having to contend with traffic on the narrow road was a bonus of joining the off road route. Thankfully the rain was short lived and by the time Weikersheim came into view the sun was doing its best to poke its head out of the clouds again.
When he found his way to the main town square it was to find it already occupied by a large number of other cyclists using the town as a lunch stop. How come there were so few riding the trail? Finding a table at one of the taverns was easier said than done but not impossible and soon a foaming beer was sat in front of a tired but happy Mark. Sitting back and taking a long draught of beer, he watched the world go by as he waited for his order of 'Gulasch suppe', he wasn't quite sure what it would be but it was cheap and hopefully filling.
The next little downpour, had people scurrying for shelter, wisely he'd sat under a big umbrella so he watched the fun with a wry smile. The soup arrived shortly after the rain ceased once again and he attacked the generous helping of lightly spiced meat with some vigour. He was tempted to hang around for the concert that was advertised for three o'clock, a steady stream of musicians had passed his table and a crew was setting out seating even as he finished eating. But days end still lay more than a few km away so, refuelled at least he departed the town and picked up the route once again.
The road remained amazingly traffic free but he still took to the disused railway line that now became the featured cycle route. Another downpour necessitated the rain gear once again and this side of lunch there were more bikes on the trail, old, young, racers, trekkers, all populated the revived rail route. A brief detour for a look at Rá¶ttingen then once more jacketless he started the home run to the campsite at Detwang. The roads were steaming and the sun returned for the last leg of the days ride but it was a still damp Mark that arrived at the Tauberromantik camping ground a short while before five.
There was good news and bad though, the good was a quiet plot dedicated to walkers and cyclists, the bad was that the restaurant was not serving the full menu but they were doing breakfast if he wanted. For six Euros he'd be pushed to organize a buffet breakfast for himself so he booked that then pitched his tiny tent for the first time on the trip. It was as he sat on the still damp grass afterwards that he realised that the loss of his case was more significant than he had originally thought. Essentially he had the clothes he was stood, well okay, sat in, and very little else. Wash kit but no towel, trousers but no underwear other than what he was wearing, likewise socks and shoes. Sure he still had all the camping kit, which had been packed with the bike, but you can hardly wear a tent!
Hmmm, wasn't there a towel in Ms Freund's bag? She surely wouldn't mind him borrowing it given the circumstances would she? He opened the bag and sure enough there was a travel towel and wash bag stowed to one side. Well at least he could get a shower, and boy did he feel ready for one!
Forty minutes later and a much-refreshed Mark emerged into pleasant early evening sunshine. The problem wasn't him personally; no it was his one change of clothes! They were sodden and like Foxy, covered in assorted gunk from wet trails. Putting them back on after his shower was not pleasant; he balked at his pants and was currently uncomfortably going commando.
Back at the tent he soggily went through his options. 1 - rinse his stuff out and hope it dried by morning and stay in the tent all night, not a bad idea but he needed to eat and really wanted to explore Rothenburg a bit this evening. 2 - explore the case to see if there was anything he could borrow for the evening. Well it wouldn't do any harm to just look would it?
The news wasn't good. Whilst Ms Freund was, as her luggage suggested, a cyclist, the current contents were not exactly unisex. Indeed, why should they be? But one could live in hope. There was however a lot of it, Mark carefully looked through the neatly folded piles, tops, skirts, underwear, what appeared to be a dress, even some footwear, same size as he took by coincidence, but nothing halfway to trousers.
Bummer! There were some cotton panties, so at least he could borrow a pair of those. He wriggled out of his own soiled clothing and gratefully pulled the dry underwear on. Much better. Hmmm, new problem, something to wear to get to the washroom to rinse his kit out. He eyed the case again, the campsite is quiet, and I'll only be a few minutes. What the heck, he retrieved a vest like top and a skirt and was soon fully dressed, albeit in women's clothing.
Talk about feeling like a pratt! The feeling of the evening breeze having free access to his nether regions was - well different, not entirely unpleasant in fact. The short walk to the library was trouble free but life is never that easy is it? Rather than use the big washing machine he decided to hand wash the few bits, he could rinse the sand out better himself after all.
He was up to his elbows in hot soapy water when his worst nightmare came true.
"Abend" a singsong voice greeted him as the door was opened behind him.
Oh sugar! She'll think I'm a right pervert. To not reply would be rude though. At least with his limited German any conversation would be short!
"Er hello" it came out in a high falsetto, nothing like his usual voice.
He kept his attention on his washing and prayed that she'd leave - quickly. Instead she started a one-way conversation in German that he could only recognise the odd word of.
“Er sorry, English?"
"Ah English!"
She started her own washing and continued a conversation with herself. I tried to finish up as soon as I could but sods law, the quicker I tried to rinse, the longer it took. I finished eventually and with a 'tschuss', my German runs to hello and goodbye, I slunk out.
To Be Continued
Maddy Bell 08.09.04 © 2004
Unexpectedly Mary
I'm not intending to do weekly postings of it, it may take many, many months before you see anymore on here, the best way to read the whole thing - complete with pictures, is to get yourselves a copy of the book in either paper or digi format by heading to Scaramouch Books. As an incentive you can currently save 25% off the list price of the print version making it a great gift option for the forthcoming season!
Chapter 2
Luckily the drying room was empty and I was soon back at the
tent. What now? I'm sat here wearing a mini skirt and girl's pants and
I'm starving! Well I guess that woman didn't notice anything odd,
maybe... Nah that's stupid. I settled into writing my journal, moving
onto the ass in front of my tent to take advantage of the evening sun.
I'd actually been sat there for nearly fifteen minutes before it
occurred to me that I was just sitting about in a skirt. I was still
hungry maybe I could get away with it, there's a restaurant on the
site, I could go there, maybe?
The idea is preposterous, intentionally dressing as a woman. My
stomach chose that moment to make its opinion felt with a very
audible rumble. Oh what the heck, its only clothes after all. I gathered
my wallet and secured Foxy and the tent and steeled myself for the
expected ridicule my attire would garner and nervously headed
towards the camp restaurant.
There were a few more people about now, kids running about,
couples out for a stroll, parents cooking - well it was just as you might
expect a campsite to be. And then there's me in a short skirt and vest
top. I was expecting stares and maybe worse but t e only looks I got
were friendly and often accompanied by an 'abend' or similar. With no
excuse to turn and flee to the safety of my tent I was soon at the
door to the restaurant.
Here goes nothing! I mustered my courage and went inside. It
was more like a pub inside and only one or two tables were occupied.
I spotted a vacant table in a dark corner and headed across the room.
The other patrons gave me no more than a cursory glance before
continuing with their food and conversations. I carefully sat down,
never have I felt so exposed, I resorted to what I've seen a thousand
girls do - that is try to pull a too short skirt down! Geez.
Nervously I picked up the menu, I wish my German was better.
The girl acting as waitress, I recognised her as the same girl that
checked me in earlier, spotted me and gave me that `won't be a mo`
look that is as universal as eating itself. I studied the menu again, the
options were not extensive, that German staple goulash soup, some
sort of noodle soup, three types of schnitzel, what looked to be
sausage and chips and lastly a basic cheese and tomato pizza which
claimed to be vegetarian.
"You would like to eat?" Her English showed me up big style.
"Er yes please" I realised that my voice had taken on a slightly
squeaky pitch.
"It is better you are dry yes?"
"Um yes"
"You drink yes?"
"Please, ine growser beer please"
"Okay, we also have, how you say in English, er special menu
for today." she indicated a board by the bar.
"Thanks"
I was expecting some comment about my attire but there was
none and she didn't appear to notice anything odd. The `specials`
board added what I think is spag bol, a `schweine` something and a
Rothenburger wurst. Hmm, I think I'll stick to what I recognise so I
settled on the pizza.
My beer arrived and my food order taken. No one seemed to be
taking any notice of the cross-dressed guy in the corner, for which I
was grateful. My host seemed oblivious to my gender, despite me
booking in as me. Maybe my limp shoulder length hair and rain gear
had disguised my sex? Did she think me a girl earlier? I sipped at my
drink nervously whilst trying to melt into the upholstery!
My food arrived in reasonable order, I was a bit disappointed
that it was a thin crust and the topping wasn't overgenerous either. It
was saved by a decent salad; my appetite was at least filled by the
meal. The other patrons were well into their cups by the time I
finished, I might have had more to drink myself if I hadn't been
wearing a skirt and panties.
I paid my bill and with a "tooce" I beat a fairly hasty retreat. I
can't believe no one said anything, still, no point in pushing my luck. I
stopped off at the drying room, my own stuff was still holding a
significant volume of liquid, I hope they do dry overnight.
Back at the tent I crawled inside before losing the vest and
skirt, I decided to keep the knickers on for the night as my own were
still out of commission. I eased into my sleeping bag; this is really it,
my first night under canvas at the end of my first day's riding. I lay
back and relaxed, two more weeks of this, excellent! I checked my
phone for the time, I don't use a watch, nine thirty, early yet but to
be honest I'm well bushed. I quickly dozed off to the night time
sounds of a busy campsite.
The sound of birds chirping and a distinctly bright dawn woke
me after an exhaustion fuelled sleep. I blearily glanced around my
faintly green surroundings trying to figure where I was, green, tent -
holiday! Still in my sleeping bag I poked my head out of the tent,
early morning mist swathed everything below half a metre but above
that were the makings of a hot summer day. The slight chill of the
morning air sent shivers coursing through my scantily clad bod; a visit
to the toilet block will be needed sooner rather than later!
I made a grab for my shorts and dragged them on, hey where's
the other leg? Wait a minute, these aren't my shorts... Oh sugar! Last
nights events came rushing back, bum! Well there's nothing for it
now, I need the loo and I need it now! I finished pulling the skirt up,
located my fleece, dragged my sandals on and crawled out of the
tent.
Well at least no ones about yet, I can collect my hopefully dry
kit on the way back. There's something serene about a campsite at
this time of day, no kids, cars, dogs, radios, well any of the myriad
noises that populate the airwaves most of the day. Only the chirping
of the birds, a distant cockerel, a car speeding past on the road
outside but mostly silence.
I was at the urinal before I remembered my attire; embarrassed
I headed into a stall instead. Bliss! In my head I was planning the
day's programme, walk up into Rothenburg, hmm maybe I can go via
that castle place and the bridge?
"Pardon Mademoiselle"
Huh? I looked up my musing to realize I was stood in front of a
rather portly and confused looking middle-aged man. I must have
nearly walked into him as I exited the gents.
"Er sorry" I blushed and hurried past. Oh no, he thinks I'm a
woman and I was coming out of the gents. To say the least I made a
hurried retreat!
To compound matters, when I got to the drying room it was
locked, bum, bum, bum! I read the sign on the door, eight o'clock;
I've got breakfast booked for seven thirty. With a heavy heart I made
my way back to my campsite, this cannot be happening.
It was still not six thirty when I got back to my tent, thoroughly
depressed and now in a definite quandary. Hmm, maybe I can work
something out over a cuppa. I set the stove up in the tent porch and
was soon intently watching the kettle; you have to watch, as there is
no whistle. The tea didn't change the situation but it did ease the
tension that was building.
Looking at it logically it's not the end of the world. I reckon I
can cope with breakfast in the skirt then I can get my kit and change
before going into Rothenburg. There, that's not so bad is it? Settled
on a course of action I decided to read up on the town before
heading to breakfast still forty-five minutes away.
As I skimmed through the guidebook my mind kept wandering
away to what I'm about to do. Last night was one thing; the light in
the restaurant wasn't great so people couldn't really see me. And the
laundry room and again this morning, they didn't really get a chance
to see me properly. Maybe this isn't such a great idea!
My stomach gave a loud growl; in matters of food I have to
admit that my head loses nearly every time. Well in for a penny! Well
despite the bargain price it seems that most campers prefer to do
their own breakfast. I was somewhat relieved to find only one other
table occupied when I got to the dining room. It was a thirty
something couple, the woman briefly smiled at me but otherwise I
was ignored.
"Gá¼ten morgen"
"Good morning" I nearly whispered.
"You have booked yes Fraulein?" a lad in his late teens asked.
"Yes, Jenkins" I advised.
"Sit where it pleases, there is cereal unt fruit, kase unt meat,
help yourself. To drink?"
"Coffee please"
"Okay I will bring to you shortly"
With that he left me to it and I found a seat. I won't bore you
with every detail but my 6 Euros got me an excellent repast and
rather than looking at me funny, the lad smiled every time he caught
me looking his way. It was well after eight when I finished and I
thankfully recovered my washed kit on the way back to the tent. I can
only imagine everyone here is blind, no one pointed or stared, in fact
the opposite, they smiled and offered greetings - you are not telling
me that they can't see I'm a bloke in a skirt!
Well my shorts looked like they have been trampled by a herd
of elephants but at least they are mine! I decided to leave the
knickers on, they're comfy and it will mean I can use my pants
tomorrow. And no one will know will they? My socks however were
beyond redemption, okay for riding but for walking around - I'd feel a
right scruff in grey socks. Maybe - no I shouldn't, hmm well its only
socks. I opened the case again and indeed there were some socks,
those trainer things, I can replace them later. I had them on my feet
before I realized they had a pink stripe around the top, well who's
going to notice?
Feeling a lot more comfortable I headed to the ablutions for a
quick wash. Only wash today - I can't grow a beard to save myself, I
get a few straggly hairs after about three months! A check of my chin
confirmed what I already knew, completely smooth, not a whisker in
sight. I tied my hair back; it's not that long but it just keeps it off of
my face. By some weird coincidence although there was no one else
in the washroom, when I left I bumped into the same bloke I saw
earlier.
"Mademoiselle"
"Er morning again" he still thinks I'm a woman!
Back at the tent I collected my valuables and with a final check
of Foxy, set off for the day. I shouldered my bag and out of the
campsite into Detwang village down past the `Alte Poste` inn and
onto the footpath alongside the Tauber. I was soon striding along;
this really is what I came for!
The path, then road took me towards the Topplerschlá¶áŸchen
and shortly I spotted the walls of Rothenburg/Tauber high up above
me. My camera was soon pressed into action, the schloss itself, really
a fortified house rather than a castle then a short distance further,
the unique Medieval Tauber Brucke. I'd already planned my route but
flat paper didn't prepare me for the climb up to the town!
I was certainly thankful for the trees as by now the sun was
making its presence felt, the almost clear blue sky with just the odd
wisp of high white cloud promised a day of hot sunshine. I eventually
reached the Spital Tor and started my exploration of the town and its
defences. I started with the walls, you can 'walk the walls' for most of
their length, by the number of people I started to negotiate, it's a
popular walk.
I was intrigued by the plaques set into the wall, sometimes in
quite thick profusion with something like `Mark Jones, Kansas,
December 1985`, at first I thought they were commemorative, they
are in a way, I found a board on one stretch that explained them.
Apparently, if you donate enough to the town restoration fund, you
get a plaque. I was more amazed by the fact that, you'll like this one,
the town was captured virtually intact by the Americans who then
used the magnificent medieval towers and houses for target practice,
practically levelling the place. So everything you see now has been
rebuilt since 1945! I was happy to see that a good proportion of the
donors on the plaques were American, even corporations - there
might be hope for them yet!
It was certainly different, walking these walls with their covered
walkways, steep stairways and long stretches with no exterior view.
The last city wall he'd walked was York where perversely considering
the English weather; its wide, open views are unhindered by roofing!
The first time he heard it he thought he'd misheard, the second
disabused him of that notion and the third time it was obviously real.
If it had been the same person it wouldn't have been so bad but
three separate persons, 2 Americans and a French woman had
variously called him Miss, Ma'am and Mademoiselle! This is starting to
get irksome!
It took over an hour to walk as far around the perimeter as was
possible, his camera working overtime. He followed the wall around to
the Castle Gardens and walking to the end looked out over the
Taubertal. Well there are more spectacular views but this one's fine
enough with the Double Bridge, the Kobelzeller Church and just
visible down through the trees, the little white Topplerschlá¶áŸchen. It
was peaceful along here, a bit too far for a lot of the touristos on their
air-conditioned coaches. And how many Japanese and Americans are
here?
He wandered back towards the town, pausing for a solemn visit
to the little Blasius Chapel, which now is dedicated to the dead of two
World Wars. Outside of the castle grounds he found a gift shop and
elected to buy the town walk guide. Looking at the maze of streets it
would be easy to get lost!
After another hour or so of exploring the central area he was
feeling rather foot sore, the enticement of some shade, a beer and a
light lunch was looking increasingly tempting. A roadside bar in the
almost traffic free central area provided the victuals before he
rejoined the multi national throng of visitors. The guide book led him
to some of the lesser known points of interest and after a visit to the
" Medieval Crime Museum' and the purchase of some "schneeballe",
the local culinary delicacy akin to a doughnut, it was time to head
back to the campsite at Detwang.
At least the walk back down into the valley was through the
shelter of Lindens and Oaks keeping the fierce late afternoon sun at
bay. Back at the tent he was quite content to collapse on the grass
and kick off his sandals from his now weary feet. After what seemed
like hours but in reality was only about twenty minutes, the lure of
the contents of the site shop proved too much, a supply of bread,
butter, cheese and ham joined a litre of cola and two bottles of beer.
Tonight food will be alfresco!
It was still fairly early so rather than eat straight away he
decided to have a drink before going to check out one of the
Romantic Roads hidden gems, the parish church of St Peter and Paul,
Detwang. It was but a short walk down through the village to the
church, set as it is, in a pleasant walled area dominated by the
gatehouse, a solid stone affair dating to the 1400`s. Mark enjoyed
looking around the old building, religious he wasn't but old churches
hold some sort of fascination. A few pictures and a gentle stroll later
and he was back at his 'zeltplatz', now gaining some shade as the sun
headed down behind the hills on the other bank of the Tauber. Ah!
This is the life, peace, pleasant weather and opening a beer bottle,
alcohol!
With beer at hand, he used the time to write in his diary, noting
what he did and saw; he'd never remember everything otherwise. It
was actually starting to cool off by the time he started on his tea cum
supper and by the time he finished the light was just starting to draw
in. He opened the second bottle and kicked back on the grass.
"Tomorrow I start south proper, Dinkelsbá¼hl I think it is, weird name.
At least its not as far, I just hope the weather holds."
Compared to last night, this one was cooler and sleep was
longer in coming. But eventually it did and Mark slept soundly.
Chapter 3
Day three, or is it four, depends how you count I suppose, duly arrived and started much the same as the previous one. After the usual morning routine he dressed in his cycling togs before going to once again partake of breakfast. By the time the tent was down and the bags packed and installed on the bike it was heading on towards nine and strangely the intrepid explorer was feeling both excitement and trepidation at the prospect of leaving Detwang. It may have only been two nights but he was already feeling some attachment to the place. Well he'd get a last look at the place on the way out, the computer clicked on as he moved off and the next step of the adventure was underway.
He rode up the road into Rothenburg and picked up the Romantische StraáŸe signs and headed south around the town. The bike route was soon utilizing a network of local cycle lanes and disused railway beds. The urban gave way to rural and the route returned to the roads, quiet roads at least. The sun wasn't showing many signs of breaking through the clouds any time soon; in fact to the contrary, it was actually starting to look like rain.
In the distance Schillingsfá¼rst Castle loomed on the horizon, the first halt of the day was less than ten kilometres away. A few drops of liquid sunshine pattered down and away to the left a determined squall was making its way towards him. No point in getting wet unduly, he stopped and donned the Gore-Tex ®. The last kilo or so up into Schillingsfá¼rst was up hill and the rain hit part way up, a slash and burn hit which soaked quickly but by the time he stopped at the tourist office in the town, only a few lingering spots continued to descend.
The tourist office provided a source of postcards, he was going to make a scrapbook of the trip and at least in postcards it's always unny! To be honest, there wasn't much in the town, other than a cobbled main street and his first sighting of what would become a regular companion on the journey - a Swiss mini bus supporting a group of elderly Swiss cyclists. Not for them carrying all the kit and camping! As he trundled out of the town under rapidly clearing skies and now once again jacketless he mused on the Swiss soft option. Well it had its good points but it would lack the flexibility that going solo offered. Still, it would be good when it rained!
The rest of the ride south to Dinkelsbá¼hl was through a mostly flat plateau, with, it has to be said some ambiguous signage. I was never lost though and the weather continued to improve so that by the time I reached the cobbled streets of the town, the temperature was into the high twenties.
I jounced over the huge cobbles of the old town and after a slight detour found my way to the " Campingplatz Romantische StraáŸe ". My pleasure was tempered however by discovering that at twelve the gatehouse cum office shut until three. Damn. My hopes of an early shower dashed, I headed the kilometre or so back into the town. With best part of two hours to kill I found a bit of parkland with a bench by the river, and proceeded to put together a picnic lunch from the leftover supplies from last night.
It was very pleasant sat there, if a little warm and I dozed a bit while watching the ducks, swans and Japanese tourists! A warm and thoroughly toasted rider returned to the camping ground for the opening time and by three thirty I was installed on a sun drenched pitch and heading for the "solar powered" or so the site blurb claimed, shower block.
The couple of hours in the sun had resulted in a certain amount of, shall we say, skin irritation. I was quite brightly pink! After a drink and securing Foxy to a tree, I started out to explore the town properly and get some supplies for breakfast, I'd already noted the site restaurant would supply a good evening meal.
Ever been to Lincoln? Well Dinkelsbá¼hl is in many ways similar, although much smaller. The main similarities are the historic walls and buildings and a comparative lack of tourists. Rothenburg is like York; Dinkelsbá¼hl is definitely on a smaller tourist scale! I don't know why but I've got a fascination with town walls, if the place is walled I feel compelled to walk the walls. Unlike Rothenburg, the Dinkelsbá¼hl town wall is one that you follow rather than walk on top.
I took my time, taking time out for first an ice cream then to squint into the 'Museum 3 Dimension'. There was only time for a half hour visit before it was due to shut so I decided to save my Euros and instead headed into the town centre. I was just in time to see the northbound Romantic Road bus deposit a few tourists before it departed for whence I came. I mooched around the few shops, took some pictures and it was actually the fact that the shops were starting to close that brought the late hour to my attention.
I spotted one of those 'Aldi' places earlier so that's where I headed, they are usually open later. After the heat of the afternoon, the shops interior was almost cold and instead of a grab and run, I took my time to savour the cool air. I literally only needed something for breakfast as I've got a hotel for tomorrow nights accommodation. The in store bakery supplied a couple of rolls and a treat of a cherry Danish, the main store gave me a single serving of butter and a pack of, if I translated it right, breakfast cheese. At least the cheese names are the same! On impulse I grabbed a card of hair elastics, although it's not that long, my hair was starting to bug me with the heat.
Back at the campsite, the restaurant was already busy and I was hot again after the walk from the town so I claimed a table rather than come back later.
"Gá¼ten abend"
"Er hi, ine grocer beer bitter"
"Sie mochte essen?"
"Um sorry?"
"English?"
"Yes"
"You like to eat?"
"Oh, yes please"
"I will bring you a list"
With that she was gone - I really could do with learning a bit more German, I'm not too bad but I have trouble working out what the natives are saying! As I waited for my drink I decided to tie my hair back, I dragged my locks back and used an elastic to put it into an albeit shortish, pony tail. Phew! That's a bit better, I could actually feel a bit of breeze on my neck but I was feeling decidedly sticky again.
"Eine bier" the waitress announced depositing a tall glass of
beverage in front of me, "und die menu."
"Thanks"
She left once again and I took a long draft of the crystal clearbrew - ah, luvverly! I picked up the menu, there were the usual suspects but I settled on what I think is vegetable soup with noodles.
"You wish to order Fraulein?"
"Please, the taygees soup" I pointed to the page.
"Tages suppe, that is all?"
"Yes thanks"
"Okay" she collected the menu and disappeared again.
My brain finally caught up, did she say frowline? Nah must be my imagination. I settled back and pulled my camera out to review the days photos. I was lost in my thoughts when my food arrived.
"Fraulein?"
"Uh? Oh right" I cleared some table space and a large bowl and a small breadbasket were placed before me.
"Gá¼ten essen!"
It wasn't quite what I thought but it smelt okay. Forget what you get in a can, this is a clear-ish concoction, a bit like minestrone but instead of pasta floating in it there are several what look like mini dumplings. Ah well. I started to eat and I was several spoons in before it dawned on me - she definitely called me frowline this time! Must be because my hair's tied back after all I'm wearing my own togs today thank gawd.
The soup and dumplings were remarkably good, I wouldn't say that it was cordon bleu but so far the food has been better than I'd expect. Half an hour later and having been called 'fraulein' three more times, I left to return to my tent. I was still feeling in need of another shower so I stowed my kit and once more headed to the shower block. It's amazing what a shower can do; I was so much more comfortable when I emerged! I was just about to depart when I caught my reflection, I don't really look like a girl do I? I stopped and looked in the mirror, nah nothing like. By way of experiment I pulled my hair back, well maybe in a dark corner but surely no one could mistake my fizzog for a girl.
Back at the tent I was surprised to realise that it was nine o'clock turned already so I made a brew and settled in to catch up on my diary. The heat finally departed to a more comfortable level and by ten it was dark, I must have made an odd sight, the pale glow from the Pda screen being my only illumination.
It must have turned cold during the night, I woke up desperately wanting a wee, boy was I surprised when I poked my head out into a morning enveloped in a fine drizzle. Damn. Well maybe, hopefully, it will dry up. There seemed little point in hanging about so after the usual morning routine I started the big pack up. There was no escape, the tent was wet, am I glad I've got a proper roof tonight!
It was still nearly nine when I was ready to set off, despite the wet it was still quite warm so I remained in shorts but donned the Gortex ®. The rain proved to be more of an annoyance than anything, spray from other traffic and a continuous trickle off my nose did not improve matters as I headed south for the next stop at Nordlingen. It was at least not too far, a scant forty km so a somewhat bedraggled rider arrived at the town gate shortly before twelve.
Expecting a lengthy search for my digs I was amazed to find the 'Goldener Rose' just inside the Tor. It was a bit early but I decided to try my luck and headed inside. Whether it was my bedraggled state or hapless German I don't know but by one I was installed in a fairly spacious room on the first floor and drying myself off from yet another shower. On a practical level I pulled my tent out and draped the thin but saturated material over the bathroom door and wardrobe, hopefully it will dry out at least a bit before I need it tomorrow.
Essentially I had a full half-day in the town so I started to get ready. One look at my shorts and it was clear they needed to join the tent and even worse my shoes were drenched too. Bum, well first things first, I set about arranging the offending articles to dry some but with the best will in the world it would be hours before either would be wearable. And I didn't really fancy sitting around wearing a towel all afternoon either.
Of course there is the other option, the one I was trying hard to ignore. There is just no way I'm walking around Nordlingen inn a short skirt tho, just no way! If nothing else I could have dry underwear so with some reluctance once more opened the case. I dug around and soon located the knickers I 'borrowed' at Rothenburg, I was quickly attired in same and feeling less exposed. For the first time I noticed a tan coloured garment, my heart raced as it looked like my saviour , a pair of keks! No such luck though, when I shook them out it turned out to be a skirt, admittedly a long one but a skirt never the less. Hmm maybe, I know I said I wasn't going out in a short skirt but at least I'd be less exposed in this. I decided to give it a try, it apparently zipped off to make a shorter skirt but intact it was about calf length. It didn't feel too bad, perhaps a little restrictive but I'm hardly running a marathon! Biggest problem was that my shirt clashed with it something rotten. A bit more of a root around the case came up with a solution, an admittedly girly t-shirt and a thin fleece. I didn't look too bad, not overtly female or particularly male for that matter, neutral! I'd do but I still needed footwear. The case contained just two pairs of shoes, a pair of very girly flat things and a pair of obviously ladies but walking sandals. Well they fitted, the sandals that is, and who looks at feet anyway?
It was still raining, not heavily but persistently nevertheless, when I departed my digs and walked the twenty metres to the steps up onto the town walls. According to my guide the walkway goes 360 ° and is covered for over 90% of the three km or so distance — I hope so with this weather! After just a few minutes of walking I'd pretty much forgotten what I was wearing, the long skirt only made its presence felt on the few occasions that I needed to go up or down steps. I guess the weather may have had some impact but I met very few other 'wall walkers', a couple with a baby buggy and a group of oldies walking purposely around the fortifications.
The buggy woman returned my smile with a cheery flurry of German that I hope didn't require a reply as I grinned like a loon when they passed. With picture taking and a short stop at a snack bar, my circuit took just over an hour whence I returned to street level to resume my sightseeing. Thankfully the wet had just about ceased by this stage so I was able to follow the town walk in relative comfort. I was reminded of my attire in the tourist office when the girl taking my postcard payment referred to me in the female - well I was at least dressed that way this time.
The last stop on the tourist walk is the bell tower attached to one end of the main town church. The Danielturm is apparently ninety metres high with lots of steps! You apparently pay the small fee up near the top so I set off and by the first landing I realized that the climb in this skirt was not going to be easy. Well no one is gonna see me in here are they. I unzipped the bottom of the skirt and although I initially felt a bit exposed, it was certainly easier climbing the Escher-like staircase up to the 'exhibition'. Apparently the caretaker lives up here for weeks at a time, sooner him than me although after climbing up I can see why!
I paid my pittance of a fee which gave me access to the last thirty or so steps which let me out onto the narrow walkway just a few feet below the very top. With the rain clouds scudding away northwards the views around the town were spectacular. The town sits in a meteor crater, the Ries, according to my guide and I spent a good twenty minutes taking in the scenes below and further afield. I started my descent and was actually about halfway down when I became aware of some other intrepid visitors heading up. I wondered why the two lads were waiting so intently for me to
descend, they were grinning away and I must admit I thought they were just being friendly. That is until I turned around as they started up. Those little buggers were looking up my skirt! The little perverts! Before I went further that skirt reverted to ankle length, sod the inconvenience.
The damp roadways were starting to steam under an increasingly warm sun when I emerged back onto the street. I decided to grab an ice cream and I found myself sat on the low wall surrounding a small water feature.
I sat there daydreaming for a while, a daft grin on my face. A few, I presume locals, smiled as they passed, some offering a cheery 'arbent', I'd actually been sat there for nearly twenty minutes when I realised that I was sat grinning like a loon wearing, lets face it, an entirely female outfit. Well at least no one seems to have picked up on me not being female - whether that is good or bad I'm not sure. With a sigh I stood up and started back to the hotel, I'm staying on a B&B basis so I need to feed myself tonight. What to do though? The hotel has a restaurant or there are plenty of eating establishments around the town. I decided to hold off on a decision until I'd checked out the dry clothing situation.
Back at the 'Goldener Rose' there was good news and bad. The good was that most of my kit was just about dry, the bad was a double blast my shorts were still damp and the hotel restaurant was booked for a private party. So if I want to eat I have to go out — and wear a skirt! Nuts! To be honest the stuff I've been wearing has been pretty comfortable and after wandering around most of the day in a skirt, what's another couple of hours? I decided to totally wimp out though, I spotted a MacDonald's on the way in, just outside the walls so I decided on a junk food fill up, just this once! I was back in my room by eight so I indulged in some German telly, all strange satire and cop shows. After three nights of basically sleeping on the ground, the bed was sheer bliss and I dropped off easily.
To Be Continued
Maddy Bell 08.09.04 © 2004