We’re riding from Oberalppass in the Swiss Alps, to Hoek van Holland (and then on to Amsterdam) in the Netherlands.
Along the way we’ll visit Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria, Germany, France and the Netherlands.
Check below the map for links to posts about the trip.
The map below shows our whole journey. On this trip so far we have:
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Two is not quite enough!
One of Ottmarsheim’s main tourist claims to fame is the Abbiatale Saints Pierre et Paul, a 1,000 year old, octagonal-shaped church, which has had its challenges over the course of its lifetime, but has undergone significant restoration. It is quite unlike any church I have seen, and has some sections of original (or maybe early frescoes) still visible.
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Retracing life’s steps
Last night’s rain is still lingering as we wake this morning, and the forecast, though not dire, is not appealing. We have another big, over 70km day. It looks like rain will dog us most of the way.
But we get lucky! We leave in a sunny moment, and that moment lasts all day. So much for Accuweather!
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Life changes …
“Our culture is changing.”
I don’t know what to think about Werner’s statement. I wanted to stay in a B&B specifically to meet local people and talk to them. I feel like we are getting political pretty early in our acquaintaince .
”There’s an election coming up, about whether we stop the population at 10,000,000.”
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Just a spectacular day!
Konstanz is a great resting place, and, historically, a place to sort out the woes of the Catholic church. I never knew – even being raised a Catholic – that at one point in time there were three men who claimed to be the legitimate Pope. It happened at a time called the Great Western Schism when all went awry (maybe communications were quite so good in those days, or Papism went factional?) All the terribly important Catholic people rushed to Konstanz, and, over the course of four years they attempted to sort out not only the pope issue, but a reformation of the Church.
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Watch out for wobblers – the young and the old!
While it has rained overnight, by the time we get around to leaving Bregenz, the sun is out, the sky is mostly blue, and we join every other cyclist around heading out on what can only be described as a bike superhighway.
There are people on bikes everywhere, including the category of cyclists that I call wobblers. These are tiny little children, I reckon only three years old, with tiny legs and on tiny bikes, going hell for leather with their parents and siblings. What they have in enthusiasm and energy is equalled by their complete lack of road/bike path sense, so it is cyclist beware when there is a wobbler in the vicinity.
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Ciao Alps, hello Bodensee
We’ve had a series of hot days since arriving back in Switzerland from Malta. Today it seems the weather is going to turn, so we make an early start after one of the world’s most expensive breakfasts. Travelling in Switzerland is expensive, we all know that. But paying >CHF50 for breakfast (most of it for me as Neil’s egg and bacon only costs about CHF5) is a bit hard to swallow. But remember, don’t convert, don’t convert, don’t convert …
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Oben am jungen Rhein*
The good news is that I survived the night! All I have is a slightly bloody knee and a very bruised ego. In the light of a new day my bike, Joy, appears to be similarly unscathed, but she doesn’t have ego ☺️
The ride out of the city is easier and far less traffic-y than the ride in and before long we are riding along through flat, green countryside. We are still in a valley, and we still have mountains on both sides, but the mountains are lower with absolutely no sign of snow. I guess you would call them foothills if you were Swiss (because the Swiss know what real mountains look like).
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Hills, Thrills and Spills
There’s one thing I don’t like about Ilanz. It’s a pretty enough city, with a small and quiet (on a Thursday night) old town and a river that runs through. But there are two damn clocks that, 24 hours a day, chime not only the hour but every bloody quarter hour. It’s quaint and cute during the daytime, but at night … give me the tools and I will dismantle the bloody things in the best, most efficient way I can! Suffice to say, I heard many hours and quarter hours during the course of the night, even after I shut the room windows, choosing stuffiness over loudness.
The last thing I hear as we ride away from Ilanz are the damn clocks striking eleven. That’s the end of it, because by the next quarter, half, hour, we are well on our way climbing up to Versam.
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Brakes? Definitely over-rated!
There are two types of cyclists in the world.
There are the ones who are happy to huff their way up the winding road up from Andermatt to Oberalppass, with bike laden, no matter what the day, or the weather. They are the purists. The die-hard cyclists, who would rather blow up lungs and legs than admit defeat.
The other type takes the train.
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