German Generosity

After a somewhat inauspicious beginning, I was overwhelmed by kindness and generosity during my week in Germany. I met some lovely people along the way and managed to relax a little more, I think.

The World Cup has brought a huge revival in German patriotism, afer experiencing a major slump in national pride in the wake of two world wars. There are flags flying everywhere - on cars, shops and homes. The Dutch showed a bit more creativity in their support of the national football team, with the colour of orange used in window displays, clothing and street decorations. In Germany it is just flags, but they fly with obvious pride. I have to admit I haven't watched any games, nor have I witnessed any hooliganism. People keep telling me excitedly that Australia won their first match though, so perhaps that makes up for my complete lack of enthusiasm in regards to soccer!

A typical German campground seems to consist of a barren, windswept piece of coast dominated by multitudes of campervans. Not the most inspiring accommodation for a lone cyclist, but the friendly campground owners have more than compensated for the bland surrounds. After a long first day on the road I arrived in Fedderwardersiel feeling tired, hungry and a little confused. But after setting up camp I was promptly invited to join Daniella and her family for German Bradwurst and copious amounts of sangria, vodka, and an almond-flavoured Yugoslavian spirit, none of which could be refused! Meanwhile the kids chased each other around the garden with water pistols. They'd been eating and drinking all afternoon and it soon became my duty to polish off all the leftover food - a task to which I applied myself heartily. Last year they only had six warm summer days when they could laze outside in the evening like this, so they enjoy it while they can. I felt very welcomed and included with these lovely people and we had a warm and happy evening.

For a land which is so densely populated, I've been surprised at the number of beautiful quiet roads which are perfect for cycling. It was on one of these small country lanes that I met Dieter, another lone cycle tourer, and we rode together towards Bremer-haven. At 72 years of age compared with my 27, he left me for dead with his tour over the previous week, having ridden 770km compared with my 530km. We got on like a house on fire, and after our ferry trip across the Weser River he took me out for a nice lunch. I almost cried as his bike disappeared into the crowd of people and he headed home to Bavaria. For a brief moment I'd found a wonderful travelling companion and friend, and I felt all the more alone again when he had gone.

The ferry ride was an adventure in itself. We were met at the dockside by Mark, who must be the most cheerful and enthusiastic guy out there. He was very keen to help in any way he could, and even paid our ferry fares. On parting he graciously kissed my hand and wished me well on my journey - what a sweetie!

Cycle touring is a great excuse to eat lots of fine food. My appetite has tripled over the past fortnight and I quickly gave up being stingy in favour of savouring as many culinary delights as possible. I LOVE German bakeries! Beautiful breads and cakes are found in abundance, and amazing gourmet cheeses are incredibly cheap. There are wonderful weekly markets in most towns with fresh local produce, and I've been gorging myself on strawberries and cherries which are in season at the moment. If I weren't doing so much riding my waistline would be rapidly expanding.

While enjoying a picnic lunch on a park bench in Husum I reflected on how easily one can become invisible to the general populace. I must have looked a bit frightful in my grotty cycling clothes and a string of recently washed underwear drying on the back of my bike. There I was with my swiss army knife making cheese and tomato sandwiches and perhaps detracting from the loveliness of the bustling market square scene. And it seemed that suddenly I ceased to exist. Slightly intimidating German matrons walked past with an air of disdain and declined to even make eye contact. It was both an uncomfortable and a curiously liberating experience. It made me wonder how it must feel to be homeless and deal constantly with people choosing to ignore your existance, either out of disapproval or fear of the personal repercussions of acknowledging your situation. The exception that day was a friendly fellow who had also done a lot of cycle touring and came over to say hello. He spoke no English, and me no German, but we had a very animated conversation about our travels and exchanged a great deal including a mutual respect, even without any common language.

Travelling through the inland regions I was excited to find some small rolling hills and leafy forests of elm and oak. It made a nice change from what has predominately been farming country so far. The woods here are certainly tamer than the Australian bush, but wilder than anything I saw in Holland. Seeing my first squirrel was also a bit of a highlight, but despite plenty of road signs I'm yet to see any deer. With so much low-lying land there have been lots of amazing water birds though, especially the beautiful big cranes.

The juxtaposition of land and water in northern Europe has inspired some amazing engineering. It seems that every bridge has been designed to open by some means to allow the passage of watercraft, whether it be on man-made canals or major rivers. I spent a number of hours riding along an enormous canal which connects the North Sea with the Baltic, and witnessed an endless stream of huge cargo ships plying their trade between the seas. Consequently the railway bridges were elevated to a height of 36m and make an impressive span across the water.

I have a newfound respect for German efficiency, culminating with the 12 second shower. My final night in Germany was spent at a very basic and slightly run-down establishment. I had gotten used to the disappointing shower experience of coin operated machines and timers, but having water sprayed at high pressure for no more than 12 seconds was the epitome of discomfort. In all seriousness though, my brief time in Europe has driven home how lazy we are in Australia with our attempts at energy and water conservation. There seems to be a much greater appreciation of these issues here, and more sense of personal responsibility.

Yesterday I literally blew into Denmark with a fearsome tailwind. It made a great change to be cruising along at 30km/hr, almost twice my normal average speed. Already I feel more at home here, partly because there is much less of a language barrier. I am thrilled to finally reach Scandinavia! Ever since my visit as a 15 year old I've wanted to come back, so it feels like a dream come true. From the window of this internet cafe I have just seen a horse-drawn cart loaded with recently graduated students dressed in white caps and singing songs. They seem to be enjoying themselves, even though it is a bit of a wet miserable day. Hopefully the weather will improve in time for the midsummer celebrations, only a few days away...

Across the Netherlands

Leaving the warmth and comfort of Mike & Carolyn's lovely apartment was really hard and I procrastinated endlessly. Eventually managing to tear myself away, I was driven in large part by a desire not to appear foolish by chickening out at the last minute! But as soon as I was on the road I felt great.

Heading north from Amsterdam I quickly left the city behind and found myself riding along the top of grassy dykes, built to keep the sea at bay. First impressions of rural Holland are of a very domesticated landscape. It is perfectly flat of course, with the only slopes I've encountered thus far being slight rises up and over the numerous dykes. The land has been highly engineered and heavily farmed, until it seems there are no wild places left. But it has a lovely charm and is pretty in a placid, peaceful kind of way.

The camping so far has been exceptional. My first night was spent on a small dairyfarm near the coast. It was a friendly place and the familiar dairy smell, although a little overwhelming, reminded me of home. I've since stayed at a couple of 'nature camping' places, which are probably as close to a national park as you get in the Netherlands. More like an urban park, I was woken one morning by a fellow mowing the lawns, however they are green and peaceful. The highlight accommodation has been a beautiful mini-campground in north Friesland where I felt as though I'd been invited into someone's home. The manicured garden held only a handful of tentsites and the love and attention that had gone into creating the space was truly delightful. I relaxed that evening in a tastefully decorated lounge area, complete with gorgeous lamps and nice wooden furniture. There was even a cup of dice with scoring sheets for yahtzee if you felt so inclined. And all this for only €7 per night!

My chosen route took me from North Holland to Friesland via an amazing 30km dyke. Completed in 1932, it effectively turned what was once the Zuiderzee (a large shallow inlet of the North Sea) into an enormous freshwater lake. It is an engineering masterpiece, just wide enough for a freeway and bikepath and controlled at each end by huge pumps and sluice gates. The long exposed ride left me feeling hot and weary, but I was thankful to escape the infamous headwinds which would make the crossing a real epic.

Some days are better than others, and heading towards Groningen I experienced one of the latter. Having left my sense of direction behind, I kept riding round in circles getting more and more frustrated until I threw my bike down and burst into tears. Navigation requires constant attention in a region that is so densely populated, as there are roads going almost everywhere. I frequently stood bewildered at intersections when the village I was heading towards was signposted in both directions. The bike paths often follow the base of a dyke, and with a virtual wall on one side it can be difficult to get a sense of the lie of the land. Having said that, the network of long-distance cycle routes is absolutely incredible, and they tend to be extremely well signposted. Sometimes I chose to follow a marked trail just to give my head a break, but it makes me feel like I'm being channelled along a well-worn path, so I generally prefer to mix it up a bit and take roads and routes as I fancy.

Feeling sunburnt, tired and lonely I continued on my way, hoping only for a better day tomorrow. Until suddenly it seemed all my dreams had come at once when I stumbled upon Kanocentrum, a mini-camping place with kayak hire. Later that evening I went for a long paddle, exploring one of the major canals in Groningen province. It was a gorgeous golden afternoon and a perfect way to unwind as I observed the daily routines of life on the river. I just love being on the water! The kayak I'd hired was a bit of an old tub, but I enjoyed every moment and went to bed feeling happy and relaxed.

For some reason I naively thought that summer in Europe would be more like winter in Australia.. where did I get that idea from?? The days have been really long and HOT and although it's wonderful having so much daylight, I'm finding the long hours in full sun to be quite exhausting. The Dutch are revelling in it though, and people are wandering around in bikinis all over the place. On bikes, boats, even in balloons, they are enjoying the summer sunshine. I must admit I've been very lucky so far to have such beautiful weather.

My biggest challenge at the moment is coping with the sense of aloneness. The logistics of finding places to stay, buying groceries and asking for directions have all been easier than I expected, but the feeling of being an outsider in a foreign place has been a constant shadow. My Dutch is limited exclusively to roadside vocabulary, and the words for speedhump, electric-fence and cattlegrid are rather infrequent in casual conversation! So my communication beyond the very basic level is completely dependent on the expertise and willingness of other English speakers. I am grateful that both qualities are in common supply and the people have been friendly and helpful. But the nature of my journey means that encounters are necessarily brief, and we show only a passing interest in each other. Perhaps that sounds harsh, but travel is literally a means of passing through a place, so deep and meaningful encounters are a rare blessing I think. Or maybe I just haven't worked out the knack of it yet.

One of the nicest little connections I made was with the man selling fruit and vegies at a market stall in Harlingen. He was a smiley chap, and after making my purchase he placed a beautiful ripe apricot in my hand. It felt like such a special gift that I almost fell in love right then are there!


Yesterday, after almost 400km of riding through the Netherlands I crossed the border into Germany. It was a bit of an anticlimax really. There wasn't even a 'Welcome to Deutschland' sign, let alone anyone to stamp my passport! So far I've been greeted with busier roads and bigger, more hassly towns. I guess there are just a lot more people. Tonight I am camped at an incredibly ugly marina complex outside Leer, and it's just started to rain. So it's not the most favourable of first impressions, but hopefully we can improve upon that.

A City of Canals

If I were to describe Amsterdam in only two words, it would have to be BICYCLES and CANALS. Both are found in abundance and define the whole cityscape. The old single-speed clanger is the preferred means of transport, and with back-pedal brakes and Harley Davidson style handlebars it certainly rules the roost. I've spent close to a week cruising around the city on Mike's rusty old bike and love the sense of freedom it provides. Riding alongside are mums with little kiddies on the front, men and women in suits on their way to work, people carrying groceries and bunches of flowers and amazing wheelbarrow-like contraptions for transporting all and sundry. It's the quickest, easiest way to get around, and the cycling infrastructure is amazing.


Amsterdam is a beautiful city. At this time of year the days are gloriously long. Twilight lasts until well past ten o'clock at night, and there is a light, relaxed mood to the place. Mike and Cadge's little apartment feels like a home away from home, and has been a real oasis in a city that didn't make much sense on first appraisal. I was quite overwhelmed by the sense of foreign-ness, particularly in regards to language. The trick here is that outwardly things may seem unintelligible, but beneath a thin veneer there's a population of extremely proficient English speakers, so it's really just a matter of approaching situations with a little bit of confidence and humour. I am humbled and impressed by the multi-lingual talents of so many people here.

It's amazing how quickly one's mood can change. Two days ago I was feeling more than a little apprehensive about the next phase of my journey. Suddenly it all seemed rather ambitious to be heading off on this tour alone. I was looking forward to the cycling, but I felt frozen with indecision about what route to take, the logistics of transporting my bike, and even more mundane challenges such as finding basic necessities in a foreign language speaking country. It was supposed to be fun, but suddenly it was starting to feel more like hard work...

The turning point came while sharing a lovely meal with friends. After chatting for a couple of hours and poring over maps together, I was reminded of why I'm on this journey in the first place. There are so many beautiful places to see and beautiful people to meet! That night I was so excited I couldn't sleep.

Today I continued my exploration of the city, which is currently gripped by world cup fever. One of the things I really love about Amsterdam is that it's very much a human-sized city. The compact design means that you can walk or ride anywhere and thus get to know the place more intimately. However the long circuitous canals make it a nightmare for navigation.

As a child I was captivated by the story of Anne Frank, so despite the hordes of tourists I couldn't resist experiencing a part of that history by visiting the house where she and her family hid during the war. There must be thousands of people who wander through there daily, yet the man at the ticket window made a point of thanking me for my smile, saying that it was the first he'd seen all day. If only we made more effort to smile and spent less time complaining of our troubles!

On the eve of my departure I'm feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. My main concern is that I've been over-cautious in my preparations, instead of leaving more to chance. My panniers seem much too heavy - do I really need all that stuff?! Perhaps by the end of the road I will have shed some insecurities and material possessions and learnt to travel a bit lighter, both in body and in spirit.