Pretty big day today. Luxuriated in the relative comfort of the hostel. Did Laundry. Went.

Traveled back through the old town of Basel.

Crossed the river a few times.

After some monkey business, we find the route and, suddenly, were deluged with francophone signposts and advertising. We had arrived in France.

We were now in Andrew’s World.

To fit the occasion, we stopped and had pain au chocolat.

Soon we found the Rhine/Rhone canal, which made for some of the nicest cycling of the trip. Often shaded, always straight with a nice consistency of riding surface and with slowboats here and there, the day was spent in pleasant pedaling.

We had lunch in Neuf-Brisac, which was one of my favorite towns along the way. The whole city is shaped like this:

Because it was built as an impenetrable fort by the French as a bulwark against the nearby Germans. Passing through the dried-up moats and high gates and seeing the grid pattern streets meant for maximum military efficiency, all of this made our stop at a Kebap stand seem epic. This is where I had my first french fail: Wanting fries, I asked for ‘pommes’ (pum-us) as the Austrians call them and then said “PUM” - which, I’m told, means ‘apple.’

More canal riding. Then a few Pssssssss flats. Then we found a campsite in Erstein, a massive complex of trailers and more trailers.

And we cuddled up with some of the folks and watched the World Cup final before going to bed. Damn you, Spain.

Woke up at campsite along the Rhine/End of the Bodensee. Went swimming in the early morning after watching one coot punk out two ducks.

After a slower start, we rolled on into a green, rolling countryside and one muggy day. We reached Stein am Rhein early in the morning.

The whole main square was filled with beautifully painted buildings.

We could see the monitor of the secretary in the Town Hall. He was watching the World Cup.

The building in the middle of this shot is a bike shop. Nice location.

I doubt this was actually the town of Gallingen…but let’s pretend it is. Gallingen was a semi-Waterloo. First, we start to climb a hill. About 10% of the way up this long, steep climb, Andreas and I realize we are going off route. Andrew trucks on up the hill. Being lazy, we call him on the phone to say we were off track.

Once we are reunited, we head back to the Rhine, cutting through a farm road and after half a rocky kilomter, we realize it too is a dead end. Damn you Gallingen.

After an hour or two, we made it to the Rheinfall at near Schaffhausen. This was the point where my last ‘Danube’ trip intersected the Rhine trip. The falls were impressive. I was hypnotized watching the flecks and whorls of white foam skitter across the rushing surface.

It was really hot. It was about midday at this point. And it was really hot. Actually, this turned out to be one of the hardest days because of the heat, the hills and the exertions of the three previous days were finally catching up to us. There were many hills.

Near some small town whose name I’ve forgotten, Andreas and I saw the frenemies for the first and last time. Klein was chilling outside a cafe. There was a water fight.

When we found a place to stop in Kuessaberg, we stayed there. This campground had a pool and a bar and we took advantage of both.

Having spent the last two nights outdoors, it was luxurious to sleep in inside. And so we did. Yet another step on the path towards Comfort. After enjoying the hostel breakfast and limitless coffee, we lazily geared up to go around 11am. And then there was the dreaded *PSSSSssss* sound of a flat tire that would become the Vuvuzela of Defeat that would become a leitmotif throughout the trip.

But then we were on the road, reaching the Bodensee/Lake Constance quickly.

Floodplain

Friends

Such a pleasant, lazy day. One might even have called it comfortable. When we got to Arbon, we lazed around in the sun and had lunch. Then we packed up, biked two kilometers down the coast and went swimming again.

Finally, we biked on to Konstanz, which was a cool university town that oozed with history and stuff. And they had food there.

And we met the famous Beardstroker of Konstanz while eating Greek. I gave him his ticket for The Island. He is definitely in.

It was getting late when we left. We’d been a bit too relaxed this day - perhaps too comfortable - and now, as the sun went down, there was a slight panic about where to camp. We found a campsite on the map in Steckborn and hauled Arsch to get there by about 10pm. But not before Dre took this pic.

Much more comfortable night.

We woke up and had a leisurely breakfast, having met the Frenemies the night before.

We’d lamented not having a TV to watch the Netherlands-Brazil World Cup game. Turns out, there was a Dutchman camping in Carrera who’d had a radio in his RV. D’oh. He was excited to tell us that Holland had won.

We decided to push hard today and try to reach the Bodensee at the Swiss/Austrian border, making this our last day in the Alps.

Today started out with more climbs, games of chicken with tractors and exquisite views of the Rhine carving out valleys and gaining new adherents from feeder streams and rivers.

There were a few sketchy pitch-black tunnels. Lots of narrow roads hugging the mountainside with only a small guardrail between you and the abyss.

Having bested the mountains, we were rewarded with the longest straightaway descent of the trip. It reminded me of my favorite sections of Oregon, Idaho, Wyoming and Colorado. Got to hold 40+mph for a few minutes.

Now we wove through small villages on gentle up n’ down hills and bike paths cutting through cornfields. Felt video game like. Quite fun.

In “some town whose name escapes me at the moment” we witnessed the formation of the actual Rhine river where the ‘Anterior Rhine’, which we’d been following, meets up with the ‘Posterior Rhine.’

Blazed past Chur, the Big Town in the area and entered the Rheintal, one long, extremely windy valley that we’d spend the rest of the day trying to exit.

We grew hungry and decided, perhaps foolishly, to eat in Liechtenstein. Recently, I saw in the news that Snoop Dogg tried to rent Liechtenstein for a week. They said they were willing but would need earlier notice. Well, after we biked more than halfway across the entire country - literally - in search of a restaurant, I’m definitely Pro-Snoop Dogg. I hope during his one week as King he will shake things up there.

Man cannot live on castles alone, Liechtenstein.

After lunch, we stretched, started pedaling, sneezed and were out of Liechtenstein. After a few kilometers following the Rhine in Austria, we stopped and had another swim. Just as cold. Just as refreshing.

When we reached the Bodensee, we were all beat. And the hoped-for campground turned out to be non-existent. Eventually we found a hostel in Hard. Despite feeling guilty for surrendering so easily to Comfort, it was quite comfortable.

That night we watched Germany lose their shot at the World Cup Championship. The Germans in the crowd were quite low while the Austrians celebrated heartily - for a German loss is an Austrian win.

So part one featured the Ascent, which lasted from about 8pm to 10pm. On top of the pass, we had a coffee and a snack and then started the Descent. But first, Andrew got to fulfill his childhood/adulthood dream of a headstand atop a mountain. His yoga teacher’s critique? Keep the ankles together.

And, of course, it started to rain lightly as we started to descend.

Foreground: Cow. Background: Source of the Rhine.

Once the slick, serpentine descent was over, it was time for a much more enjoyable, much more gradual and enduring descent through the valley that opened up before us.

A German I met on the last bike trip in an abandoned Uranium mining town in Wyoming on the rooftop of Monk King Bird Pottery once described bicycling up the Rocky Mountains as “peanuts.” The following picture demonstrates which legume his precious Alps are:

We had lunch somewhere. Andreas and Andrew ate at a restaurant while I ate groceries. Already, I could feel myself succumbing to the Forces of Comfort. After lunch, the path turned off-roadish and gravelly, much to Andrew’s road bike’s chagrin.

Our trip still a young and fresh, we took a swim in the newborn Rhine. It was icy cold.

Somewhere on this gravel road I lost my small, gray bike computer. A word to the wise: Don’t lose small, gray objects on 5 kilometer stretches made entire of small, gray objects. Dre and Andrew took a break while I scoured the gravelly landscape searching for the computer, cursing my clumsiness. Thanks to the well-wishing of two kindly old Swiss ladies, the computer was found. I found this when I returned:

These are clearly the Agents of Comfort.

And the day kept going.

And the Rhine was already growing in size and stature.

And, after a few more hours, we called it a day at a campsite in Carrera.

A cold night with a glorious awakening. Andrew, who’d risen earlier to wander about Andermatt, woke me up as the sun was rising over the hills.

Here’s the view from my tent door.

Warning: I took many photographs this day.

After breakfast and a warm-up and a quick check of our bikes by this bridge:

We started the Big Climb. Theoretically, after this climb, it would all be downhill afterward.

Wisely, we chose to tackle the most concentratedly difficult section at the very beginning. The following are pictures taken on the long ascent:

Whew.

And as we finally reached the summit, the clink and clank of bells proved that the cow signs were appropriate.

And finally, we reached the summit nearby the glacial lake that spawns the Rhine.

And because of the excess of pictures in this post, I’ll pause here and split the day into two parts.

So me (Andrew), Andrew and Andreas bicycled the Rhine River, more or less. It went something like this:

It ended up being about 1000 to 1100 miles over 18 to 21 days - depending on how you look at it - through Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria, Germany, France, Belgium and The Netherlands.

A slightly more detailed map is here: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=3934489

Since it got started just over a month ago and since my inherent laziness senses some appealing symmetry in the following scheme, I will put up an entry each day more or less exactly one month after the events described occurred.

When did it start? When Andreas and I struggled up the Braunsberg as a practice run?

When I picked Andrew up at the airport and he was still sweepy the next day?

Or was it when the bikes had been assembled and we too had assembled at the minivan for a group photo?

Or after we’d tramped around Vienna so much that I had to put dollar bills in the straps of my sandals to ease the pain?

It probably started with the 10 (?) hour van ride from Vienna to Andermatt, Switzerland. Andreas, soon to be known as Dr. Dre, drove the whole way while the saintly Margit prepared for the long ride back.

Already inside jokes were being created.

Traffic jams near Munich. Last grocery stop in Austria. In the photo below, already we can see foreshadowed the titanic struggle between ‘dangerous thrift’ and ‘comfort’ that would soon be waged amongst the group.

The chocolate represents comfort. The anonymous 35 cent beans represent dangerous thrift.

We passed by Liechtenstein, keenly aware that, from here on out, we would be biking back across this terrain.

The scenery grew more wild but, more forebodingly, it began to rain as we climbed higher into the Alps.

We finally arrived at the Oberalppass and drove up the steep, serpentine road we would bike back down the next day.

And went down the descent that would be our rude, 600 meters over 11 kilometer awakening the next morning. As we went down in the fog, a lone, barrel-chested Swissman was one-handedly mowing the mountainside wearing neither a shirt nor any sign of fear. When I acquire The Island, he will be The Groundskeeper.

In Andermatt, we unloaded our stuff and bid farewell to Margit.

And then, in the cold, rainy night, we set up our tents, locked up the bikes and passed the night in shivers of excitement and coldness.