​Once again, a slow and enjoyable start to the day: knitting, reading, chi gung (ie, stretches), breakfast.  There were swifts swooping everywhere.
 
I chatted to one of the Dutch campers who had a dog with her that looked like a cross between a border collie and a spaniel but was, in fact, some kind of Dutch pedigree.  She explained that the owner of the campsite was Dutch – and his wife was Czech – hence the large number of Dutch campers – the site was well maintained and advertised widely amongst the Dutch camping fraternity.  The fact that the wife was Czech meant that if anyone needed to, e.g., go to hospital, she would act as a go between and that made it all extra safe.  The woman had a vase full of lily of the valley on a picnic table, which she said she’d picked in the woods. 
I bid her farewell as it was high time to get going to Prague…
 
Have made a little discovery about ‘Komoot’ – the German cycling map site I’ve subscribed to.  If one clicks anywhere on the route – it tells you what it’s like – whether it’s paved, asphalt, loose gravel or a track.  Yesterday I should have been on a track.  Because I thought I was supposed to be on a road, I’d ignored the track.  No wonder I’d gone astray.  Today, I was supposed to be on a track – and I was: proper, grass growing in the middle, never used by a car track.  It was beautiful cycling  - mixed deciduous/pine forests, fields of grass and rolling countryside.  I got my first sight of Prague from the top of a hill – spread out before me (a little like seeing Exeter from Haldon Hill – or maybe not). 
 
I went past a large pond (and went in search of a loo, too – and found one, in a sports complex/restaurant), with a tower next to it, surrounded by trees and a swan family sailing in the middle (I took yet another bad nature picture of them).  The sun was low in the sky and reflecting in the water – irresistible – and yet another awful photograph results. 
 
  When I get into Prague proper – the grand buildings all along the river, with masses of people enjoying the evening sunshine on the River Vitava banks and several bridges spanning the water all in sight – it was majestic.  It was also noisy with sirens, trams and cars rolling over tram tracks, and dusty and smelly and dirty.  Prague is a vast city, a buzzing city with a sense of a seedy underground.  There are lots of beautiful, young people around lending an energy to the night.  The traffic doesn’t seem to diminish, even at midnight.
 
The youth hostel itself is a bit grotty, run down – a small dormitory with 6 other young girls (not old enough to be out of school, surely?!).   One of them, Hayley is in bed when I get there and remains in bed when I leave – I hope she’s OK (though she sounds OK when I say hello).  There is a kitchen where the rest of them are cooking (smells good), so I escape outside to a restaurant and have a beer.  I am shocked that it seems standard to serve a heavy glass tankard with half a glass of froth on top of the beer – I look around and see that it is indeed the case – everyone is served their beer looking the same.    By the time the head disappears it’s only half a glass – still, it’s cold and refreshing and more than enough.  I do a little knitting and people watch before wending my way back to bed. 
 

​The day begun with thick white mist enveloping everything: the hairs on my arms stood up, each with their own little dew drop. Ski lifts would loom out of the fug – and the landscape was shrunk down to the odd line of fir trees, foreshortened, or a fence.  It was so damp that I took my hearing aids out, which deadened the atmosphere still further.  It wasn’t until I came down from the mountains that the mist finally disappeared. 
 
Kardan was a big town – Lidl and all – but I sailed on past.  I took a wrong turn to Knezice – (all the villages end with ‘ice’ around here)I should have turned left then immediately right again but I just turned right.  Since the mistake had involved a zoom down hill, I had no intention of climbing back up and therefore was now forging my own path.  The map on the Mac is not completely downloaded – so if I zoom in, without wifi, I get white squares where the information won’t stay – that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.  I haven’t even got a small scale paper map anymore.  I was running parallel to the route that ‘Komoot’ had worked out for me, and I could see where I was, which was good enough.  
 
I went through a pretty village with a pond (lots of the villages have ponds around here – some cleaner than others).   This particular pond was full of freshly mown grass, as the surrounding grass had recently been cut.  What stopped me was a weird ratcheting noise (I’ve got my hearing aids back in now).  I quickly realized it came from frogs – and the pond was full of them. When I walked around the pond to investigate they all jumped into the water and hid. 
 
And I saw yet another hare.  I’ve never seen so many hares before – I spot one just about every day.  This particular one was only about 6 ft. away from me, but all I could see was the tips of his ears sticking out from above the wheat.  When he realized I was so close, he hopped off pretty sharpish. 
 
AT around 8pm I started thinking about finding a camping place.  I asked a chap mowing his lawn – but he reckoned the nearest place was back in Kardan.  I had passed through there in the morning so I had no intention of going back.  That’s the trouble with asking folk who drive cars – a thirty minute drive might take me several hours – especially if hills are involved!  I thanked him for his advice then cycled on up the lane – and found a suitable place amongst some trees about 500 metres from the road.  (Wow – imperial measurements in one paragraph and metric in the next – I’m very confused – sorry!).   They were oak trees – with brand new leaves all soft and green.   I didn’t see anyone – just a few cars driving past back on the road – but I did hear a rather odd noise close by which I decided must have come from a wild pig.  Can’t think what else it could have been.  
Didn’t hear it again and had a comfy night’s sleep.

​I did a couple of daily drawings after a lovely scrambled egg and ham breakfast (followed by strawberries – yum).  I left the picture of a nuthatch (Kleiber) and the tinners rabbits for Mario and Lily to say thanks – which seemed inadequate after such generosity.  Lily is learning the fiddle – she played me a couple of tunes while I painted.
 
I set off for the Czech border at around 10.30hrs (with a bit of dithering about direction, despite having been driven that way only the previous night).
Back down to ‘Hong Kong town’ aka Potūčky (past the café where Lily works) and turn left.   I cycled along a deserted road (only saw one car all day) through endless fir tree forests following a burbling stream not far from the border.  It was a gentle uphill all the way.  I didn’t see any wildlife save one black squirrel and lots of birds squawking an alarm as they saw me pant my way past.  
 
I couldn’t help think of my sister’s PhD topic “The Effects of Pine Forestation on Small Stream Ecology” (which is a bit of a mouthful to be sure – and I didn’t understand a word of it!).  However – I’d asked Mario if there were fish in a stream we drove past the previous night and he’d replied that it was “too sour”, meaning acid, I guess. 
 
When I got to Boži Dar I saw a Pension house/restaurant and decided to stop and have supper – it was getting very chill and dark, despite it being early afternoon.  As I sat eating, the thunder and lightening started and it poured down outside.  The guy who ran the place offered to bring Rowenna inside, which was really thoughtful.  The rain looked set to last, so I decided there and then to stay the night.  Glad I did, as it’s still raining now – and I have practically an entire apartment – double bed, kitchenette, own bathroom, comfy sofa – for €18, breakfast inclusive.  It’s the low season too – as this is a SKI resort!  In winter, the price rises to €30 a night. 
It’s also much flatter riding tomorrow so hopefully can make an early getaway to make up for skiving today. 

I have arranged a Warm Showers place to stay in Johanngeorgestadt -  with Norman Kraus, I’d thought,  but, since he’d moved to Amsterdam 2 months previously, it was actually with his parents, Mario and Lily, who  are much more my age anyway, so this has worked out perfectly.   Johanngeorgestadt is very close to the Czech Republic border (which I’ve already poked my nose into, with our duty free Supermarket run several days previously) and not too far from Schönheide, so I thought it would be a good way to get back into the cycling rhythm.  Susanne thought otherwise – it’s uphill and she also wanted to make sure I was ‘handed over’ to good people so that she didn’t feel like she was throwing me out “like a dog abandoned on a motorway”.   Once again, I made some feeble attempts to argue my case but the words ‘uphill’ meant I didn’t argue too vehemently. 
 
Besides, giving me a lift meant that we could spend our last day together companionably – and I could go to church (!).  Yes, the heathen, non-believing me went to a Lutheran (Protestant) church for the first time since going to Midnight Mass at Christmas after the pub closed, several years ago.  (I’m disregarding weddings and funerals when I’m there on behalf of a person rather than the service itself).   It was a special service celebrating the ‘Jubilee’ of church members.  Most people are confirmed as full church members when they are 14yrs or so – as happened to Beate’s son Patrick’s friend and also Juliana – it’s a big family event and represents a coming of age, rite of passage and also means lots of presents!   The church invites anyone who has been a full member of the church for 25, 50, 60 and 65 (and then every 5) years to return to the church for a commemorative service and communion – THAT was what this service was all about.  There is a brass band outside and the church members celebrating meet on the hill behind the church and parade down and up the central aisle.  The celebrants were all blessed by the vicar during the service.  
 
I estimated there were over 280 people in the church.  It was a very pretty and light-filled church, with balconies like a theatre and painted white and pinky-beige with gold leaf.  Ornate plasterwork representing a sun with a dove of peace soared over the altar.  There were also cherubim in corners and swirls of plasterwork on panels around the walls – lots to look at.  It was very different to the old English churches I have visited in the past.  Of course, I couldn’t understand a word of the service though Susanne gave me a synopsis afterwards. 
We sung hymns in German – only one tune of which I recognised vaguely.  There was a rather good organ player and a choir (depleted due to members on holiday so the vicar had to come down to join in on one song, to increase the number of bass singers).   I found it all fascinating and we made a getaway before the end – when everyone went up for communion.   
 
We went back for one of Roswitha’s home made lunches – schnitzel, asparagus with hollandaise, potatoes and salad with pineapple and vienetta for pudding. Then off to see Susanne’s father Rainer in hospital (to say goodbye, on my part).  Rainer looks much more happy and nearly back to normal – hoping to escape after the ward round the next morning.  I feel like one of the family now!  I am an honorary Schlesinger. 
 
Once back at the house, it was time to pack up.  Then it only took half an hour to drive what would have taken me 5hours I’m sure (bearing in mind that it’s steadily uphill from Schönheide).   Susanne told my story to Mario and lily (Norman the Warmshower cyclist’s parents)– though she could have said ANYTHING!   (I can understand why folk who can’t speak the language or are deaf can get paranoid – though I fancy I can detect some of the content from context, facial expression etc).   It’s great that Susanne has met Lily and Mario as it sounds like they have several friends in common – and Lily is pleased to have met Susanne as she can join the knitting group.  She is also converted to Ravelry by the two of us.
 
Lily speaks great English, but doesn’t think she does.  Lily and Mario seem the epitome of a happy family – they have three children, the oldest daughter married and working as a Primary School teacher, Norman in Amsterdam (and a brewer) and the youngest still away at University training to be a teacher.   They obviously love the area and want to show it off – so I get a guided tour (which is brilliant  - seeing places I would never have found myself).  First we cross the border (via ‘Hong Kong’ city where you can buy ANYTHING) and go to a log cabin with a grass roof – built on the remains of a house in the middle of the forest.  Sadly, it’s closed.  So we go to a more conventional beer garden/pub and have bread, cheese and a beer – Lily having lemonade as the Czech Republic have zero tolerance to drink/driving.  There, Lily and Mario run into an old friend – a veterinarian called Ernst out walking with his friend Michael.  Lily last saw him 8 years ago so this is a pleasant surprise.  Sad news though – as Ernst’s wife died only last Tuesday from complications of diabetes, it sounds like and he looks close to tears as he tells the story. 
 
From there (feeling slightly tipsy after the first beer in several days!) – we go to a local viewpoint – where there is a radar for the airport  and a hotel.  From this place one can see Schönheide, close to reservoirs, and far away on the horizon, Dresden.  I forget that we are so far inland – we are over 400km away from the sea!   We watch the sunset and Mario has some binoculars and scans the sky and forest for birds – these are the largest forests in the whole of Germany and the fir and sprce trees stretch into the distance.
 
Mario is a carpenter, but in his spare time he enjoys nature.  He maintains over 500 nest boxes in the forest – it is his hobby.  He has two ancient small motorbikes with which he pulls a trailer and a ladder (I’d love to see that!) and puts up the boxes.  They are not just for birds – they are for hibernating dormice/field mice too (designed slightly differently and set 3 metres above the ground).
 
Mario was born is this area and is keen to tell me its history – Johanngeorgestadt was a mining town – tin, iron, silver and it is where uranium was first discovered (these are the ‘Ore Mountains’).   Pre war – it had ten times the population that it has now.   The second world war saw a resurgence of the mining that had been abandoned and beginning in 1945, uranium mining underwent growth that was both rapid and without much regard to the effects on either human beings or on the environment. A great deal of the Old Town had to be torn down between 1953 and 1960 owing to mining damage, and new residential areas were built.   Mario and Lily live in an apartment block built for the miners.
 
Flossenbürg Concentration Camp was built here, housing Jews, Gypsies, POW etc – and many inmates died.  It was emptied on 13th April, 1945 and the inmates set on a ‘death march’ to Theresienstadt. 
 
Johanngeorgestadt is the home of the ‘Schwiboggen’ – and has the largest one in Germany.  This is an arc (to represent the sun, which the miners would rarely see) housing two miners and two women making gloves and lace (on the distinctive round pillow) which were local industries in the 19th century.   The miners would make those beautiful, handcarved, wooden Christmas tree decorations and these are still a local speciality and are handed down through generations. 
 
Enough history!  Back at the apartment, Lily shared photographs of the family and showed off her knitting prowess (loved the jacket that took her a year!).  We had more beer (some of Norman’s) and sat talking until gone 11pm (despite the fact that Mario had to get up at 5am for work the next day).  Lily works shifts in a cafe down by Potucky and didn’t have to start until midday the next day, so we spent a little more time together in the morning, which was lovely.  We also phoned Norman in Amsterdam – since it was through him (and Warm Showers) that I was staying with Lily and Mario in the first place.  Since he’s a brewer by trade, I said he would HAVE to meet up with Seth to discuss brewing, next time he went to Bristol – he’s only a few years younger.  He agreed this would be ‘cool’.  Norman also agreed to remove the word ‘boring’ from his description of Johanngeorgestadt on Warm Showers.
We’d crammed a lot into a short evening.  Time for bed!

Susanne speaks English fluently – loves reading English books and watching English telly – and English films.  She also speaks/reads Russian (though she’s rusty) and Dutch and a little French and all sorts of German dialects.   (Once again, I am ashamed of my complete lack of foreign languages).   We talk into the night while Susanne knits at a speed to rival Hazel Tindall (the Shetland world speed knitting champ for those non knitting readers out there).  She is like Lily Chin the crocheter – she can talk on whilst yards of fabric emerge from her needles and I am in awe.  She shows me a shawl she has just finished with beads weighting the edge.  Susanne test knits socks – there are (for the uninitiated) games that one can play on Ravelry, like ‘sock wars’ – and Susanne is a keen competitor.  Susanne also likes to organise charity knitting and has knit endless ‘trauma teddies’, socks and lovely little knubbelchen  dolls which are given to children who are (through no fault of their own) involved with the police, to help comfort them in a scary situation.
 
Susanne comes from a knitting dynasty: her mother, her mother’s mother, her mother’s mother’s mother (and, no doubt further back in time still) – all great and prolific knitters.  The flat upstairs is filled with evidence of this prowess.  There are baskets of knitted socks and shawls.  There is a chair full of stuffed toys in the lounge and a basket of knitted cakes and fruit and veggies in the kitchen.  There is another basket of pumpkins and mushrooms on the stairs leading up to the flat.  (I’m sure there is far more lurking in cupboards along with a huge amount of stash elsewhere).
 
Now, without realising, but noticing subtle differences in the environs almost subconsciously, I crossed over the old border from West to East Germany (the GDR) at Hirschberg.    One of the differences I noted was the lack of knowledge of English language in older folk – I asked several people in Hirschberg if they knew where I could find food or a place to camp – even using my ‘point it’ book – but several waved me away, not wanting to know or help.  A young guy later stopped his car and went out of his way to help – so this unwillingness really wasn’t universal.  Susanne explained that there were also many more restrictions laid on people this close to the border before they were opened 27yrs ago.
 
I also noticed high rise blocks of flats on the outskirts of Plauen and coming into Aurebach (reminded me of the Phipps Bridge Estate in Mitcham) and asked Susanne about them: she said these had been ‘des-res’ apartments when they were built – they were centrally heated and the low rent included everything, even water and electricity – whereas the alternative was expensive, large, older properties which were hard to keep warm and falling down through lack of maintenance.  Now many of them lie empty and abandoned.
 
Susanne had been 18yrs old when the Berlin Wall came down.  She told me Plauen had also been part of the GDR – hence the dilapidated grand old buildings on the outskirts of the city.  She can remember a time when shelves in the supermarkets were pitifully empty and gets mildly irritated with young people who get fussy about a couple of brown spots on a banana as she can remember when there were queues for hours for an exotic rarity like an orange or a banana.
 
Susanne’s family have lived in Schönheide for generations and she is proud of this fact, but not so proud of being ‘German’ – because of the two World Wars.  She used to work for an organisation that facilitated language and cultural exchange visits between American and German students.   American youngsters would often arrive just looking to have a good time and neglect the more serious aspects of their stay, so Susanne would have to take them to task – the most hurtful and painful insult that could be hurled at her was “Oh, you’re such a Nazi”.  I tried to interject that I had often felt ashamed to be British on account of our exploits in the British ‘Empire’ – eg. Smashing looms in India to promote the British textile trade, or the massacre of Natives – oh, many such examples.    She felt that it was different to be British because, at the end of the day, we won the war. 
 
Travelling by East Germans was severely restricted by the authorities.  Susanne has more than made up for any limitations she may have suffered as a youngster – and has travelled to the United States and Canada, Iceland, Eire, UK, most of Europe, New Zealand and now, due to her really cool job, most of Africa. 
Susanne is I.T. person (and indispensable jack of all trades) for a Tour Operator called 'Outback Africa' specialising in politically correct Safaris in the South and South East of Africa.  The entire small company get to travel to Africa fairly regularly for ‘work’ purposes. 
 
The  company work out of a brand new (2yrs old) modern building in a rural village (near where the bosses lives) with a robot lawn mower called Rudy beavering away outside.   The robot is hired – and returns to his company for maintenance in the winter months – they get a Christmas card from him!   This robot is the second one of its kind I’ve seen – I saw the first outside Auerbach – and hadn’t got a clue what it was – but watched its activity in awe for several minutes before moving on. 
 
It looks to be a friendly company to work for – although Susanne works from home most days and goes in to the office for meetings etc one day a week so she can take an outsider’s view on inevitable office politics.    She writes code, photoshops, builds the website to maximise customer appeal and I am in total admiration of her knowledge and many talents.   “What about unemployment in the area?”, I ask.  Susanne sort of fell into the job she has now – initially working part time, then graduating to a full time job because she was known and valued, when she was made redundant from her other job.  Susanne said that many young people left the area when Germany was reunited.  People are gradually returning but it has meant that there has been a shortage of labour.  “If people don’t have a job, it’s because they don’t want one”, she asserted. 
There was much more discussion, debate, information and I could fill several more pages, I think!      
 
While Susanne has worked, I have spent some time with Roswitha – who speaks no English but doesn’t let this get in the way.  She chatters away and makes herself understood – eg. When we looked at some of my photographs with the numerous doggy pictures, she made it known that she had been bitten, rather horrifically, by a hound when she was a small child.  I spent a lovely half an hour looking at pictures of her birthday tour of Ireland when the women – Susanne, her mother, Susanne’s best buddy Tanya and her grandmother – got together and Roswitha had been treated like the Queen Mum.   Susanne gets picture books made up for everyone after their adventures abroad.  They are exceptionally well made – and I love her book of her travels through the South West of England – she passed really close to my home in 2011!  
However it made me chuckle to hear that her family and friends forbade Susanne to “kiss the Blarney Stone” on their trip to Eire – and I can completely understand why. 
 
My visit has been somewhat complicated by the admission of Susanne’s Dad, Rainer to hospital for investigations into possible kidney pain (transpired it was related to the intestines and not serious).  The time elapsed from initial visit to GP and admission to larger hospital was less than 24hours.  I was gobsmacked as this process would have taken weeks, if not months in the UK.  Susanne explained that there are many hospitals competing for few patients in this area (unlike, eg. Berlin) – and it’s unheard of for there to be more than say, 4 people in one room also, for the same reason.  Everyone has health insurance – though there might be a nominal charge of €10 a day for a hospital stay – and, of course, there are private medical insurance schemes available to buy.    Roswitha was understandably worried and agitated by this turn of events – I didn’t need language skills to know this – and they were celebrating 47yrs of marriage on the day of his admission.  I visited him with Roswitha and Suzanne a couple of times during my stay – the hospital was a clean, modern and inviting place – with racetrack wards built around a central nurses’ station and no more than two patients to each room.   He was much better and hopefully preparing to go home after the ward round Monday morning.
 
Susanne has a married brother with two young boys – and she sounds like a fabulous Aunty with an imaginative and wicked sense of humour.  She likes to buy them ‘unsuitable presents’ she says –things she knows they will enjoy but perhaps aren’t allowed in the normal scheme of things – like loud drum kits. 
We went for a beautifully peaceful stroll around a lake – an old reservoir now used as a bathing place in summer: there is a small beach where a stream enters the lake where the boys like to play and build dams, she says. 
I saw two families of ducklings there – and a duck being chased by two drakes too, so there may well be more in the near future. 
 
Susanne has helped organise an interesting short holiday for me – in between knitting and chatting (and eating Roswitha’s tasty lunches) – I have lounged the day away at Bad Elster spas and baths – with a ‘sports’ massage of my back and arms.  I have also got a hair cut (I can see again!) – and visited one of Susanne’s local knitting groups.
 
Saturday I went to a large Craft gathering in Klaffenbach Castle.  It was organised by Karin who runs a yarn/haberdashery/wooden toy shop in the quadrangle of the castle – and there were demonstrations of bobbin lacemaking (over a round cushion, which is a local speciality), knitting, spinning on wheels and spindles, simple frame weaving and tatting.   I spent a pleasant day meeting other textile enthusiasts whilst getting on with my own knitting and spindling, and watching the weddings taking place at the Castle (five of them!).  I was given a present by the Organiser of some viscose fluff to spin and keep me busy on my adventure, and a small, machine made lace, floral decoration – of the kind that Plauen is famous for, which was really lovely and unexpected. 
It was fabulous weather and I caught the sun on my shoulders where the sun lotion was missed.  (I hear it’s raining in England – not that I’m gloating as I suspect it will get here sooner or later).
 
When we got back to Susanne’s house, we had an assignation in Roswitha’s front room.  Treats (chocolates, nibbles) laid out on the table with sparkling Prosecco and elderflower cordial – all to be taken whilst watching the German version of “Strictly Come Dancing” – I was quite happy knitting whilst not understanding a word, or knowing any of the German celebs either.   Watching “Let’s Dance” together is a regular feature of Susanne and Roswitha’s Friday nights.  (I asked what Rainer does, when he’s home – and, apparently he disappears off to his office, or just goes to bed early!  He has football nights with his mates, though – when Roswitha will escape up to Susanne’s flat). 
 
Once again, I have had a thoroughly wonderful time with a local knitter and her family– and even finished the French (flag with a cock) and German (a pretzel) knitted squares, got up to date with daily draws and blogs and finished the border on the baby shawl.    Special thanks due to Susanne as she has been instrumental in translating for me, and finding hosts in Germany and just plain throwing herself into my adventure – wouldn’t have been half as good without her help.
 

​Sat around and got completely up to date with the blog before leaving the Youth Hostel. 
Today the weather turned chillier with the wind nibbling my ears.  And I kept overshooting where I was supposed to be – get the map out and realise I’d missed my turning AGAIN and gone a few kilometres past – very frustrating, and if you do THAT enough times it can mount up.  Still – it was lovely cycling – through forests and hills and small villages. 
 
I gradually realised I wasn’t going to find a supermarket open after passing several shut ones which ought to have been open according to their signs and suspected it was a Bank Holiday.  Susanne confirmed my suspicions later.  So by the time it got to 6pm and I got into Auerbach I was ravenous because I’d had nothing since breakfast.  (Note to self – get emergency biscuit rations for pannier to avoid similar situation in future).  Fortunately there was a doner kebab place open so I ordered another falafel roll – loads of salad and delicious - just the job.  At the same time, Susanne phoned and said she would come and get me as the last 5 miles were all up hill and it wasn’t far.  I tried to dissuade her but she insisted – who am I to argue with the boss?
 
She arrived just as I emerged from the kebab house – and  greeted me with a firm and warm hug.  Rowenna, luggage and me whisked back to the family house – where I was greeted with effulgence by her parents Rainer and Roswitha (pronounced ‘Rosevita’) who live downstairs.   Woohoo!  Six nights with Susanne – though she has to work, I’m looking forward to getting to know her and getting some insight into her life – and also catching up on dirty washing, posting pics and blogging etc. etc.

Decided to stay in town as Susanne not back ‘till Monday and only 21 miles (theoretically) to cycle there.  Plan was to visit a museum and sit and get up to date with daily drawings.  Sadly the embroidery and lace museum was closed on Sundays as I’d like to have visited there, so I went to the Vogtland museum instead – which was convenient to walk to, being just around the corner from the Youth Hostel.   €5 got me entrance and my own personal escort – a pleasant and evidently knowledgeable lady but one who knew no English.  She did her best to tell me about the exhibits (and nearly had apoplexy when I went to touch the knitting sitting in a basket on a bench – don’t touch!).  The museum was a grand old house being lovingly restored.  There was amazing plaster work – the ballroom had panels with 3 dimensional plaster carvings representing the hunter/gatherer harvests of each month. 

There was a music room with the strangest of instruments – a giraffeklavier I think it was called – a sort of upright piano with an extension – like a grand piano on it’s side.  My guide told me Schubert had played on the grand piano (there was an ordinary grand piano in the room as well as the giraffe version).   And while she was namedropping, she said that Napolean Bonaparte had stayed in this house for a couple of nights too. 
Unfortunately I didn’t take any pictures as they wanted me to leave my bags in a locker before I went in – and I left my camera too.   But I sat quite happily with my paints for the remainder of the afternoon and completed 3 daily draws from the exhibits – bringing my tally right up to date for this year (that’s a daily drawing since January 1st!)  I love the mundane so kitchen utensils just do it for me – give me cheese grater and a cast iron stove to draw, over a chandelier any day.  My escort left me to it.  The place was very quiet – not many other visitors – hushed like a library. 
 
Not long before it closed (and I think I missed the gallery part of the exhibition) I emerged into a rainwashed world – I’d not even noticed it had rained.   I went in search of food and headed for a Turkish doner kebab place.  Falafel, halloumi and salad in a huge, fresh baked wrap for €4 – perfect and hard to beat that. 

​Oof.  I really couldn’t be bothered to go far today, working my way slowly toward Schönheid.  It’s just too sizzling hot!  I slowly pedal alongside the River Main into Gemünden am Main where there is a triathlon finishing.  The participants all look trim and fit in their skimpy lycra outfits – but sweaty and hot nevertheless. 
I carried on, but my heart isn’t in travelling:  I just wanted to lie down somewhere pleasant and soak all the heat up.
I went into a Macdonalds because I knew they have wifi.  I sent a few emails, and saw pictures of Lustleigh Mayday on Facebook – my neighbour’s daughter Talia was Queen of the May and looked beautiful.  And Mayday looks to have had the best weather in years – as good at home as it is here in Germany.
 
Unlike the cold, which draws one in on oneself, condenses, shivering - heat is expansive and it leaches.  Sweat puddles on my face and I feel sticky all over, losing salts and minerals with perspiration and feel really heavy and tired.  There’s a good argument for taking a siesta in such weather I think.
 
I am in Eussenheim – and contemplating camping somewhere unobtrusive again.  I am having a weird supper in an old fashioned German restaurant called something like the Golden Krone.  I ordered something like chicken and everything on my plate is covered in golden breadcrumbs and deep-fried.  The saving grace is that it came with a salad of the standard variety- round, floppy (but fresh) lettuce, couple slices tomato, grated carrot and radish in a runny cross between mayo and vinegraitte dressing.  I was hungry and it went.    I even asked if they had a room for the night but was quite relieved when they said ‘nein’!  Over supper I met a French/Australian couple who had emigrated to Oz  in 1971 and who were doing the tour of the homelands and visiting relatives.  It was odd to be speaking English fluently again. 
 
Just a little bit further along the cycle path, I see a sign for ‘Bett and Bike’ and Gãsthaus Pension Heuler – I decide to investigate, feeling too hot and bothered to go much further.  The house looked very pleasant – clean and light with a ‘wilkommen’ arrangement of roses in the shape of a heart on the reception desk and similar decorations on the walls.   Not only did they have a room, with a balcony and enough space to swing several cats in, but it came with breakfast included at the bargain price of €47.  Someone had taken great trouble to make the place beautiful: Japanese inspired flower arranging, and colour coordinated décor (poppies in the dining room overlooking open fields). A dried flower arrangement on the first floor (where my room was to be found) included a tiny flax spinning wheel, with flax still on the distaff, but the flyer askew and the driveband loose and tangled in twigs.  There was a bobbin on the flyer so it was probably a working wheel – poor thing. 
 
The shower was glorious, and the room with a balcony complete with sun loungers and table, and chair cushions in the wardrobe – we’ll overlook the clean ashtray – overlooking the sunset, which, despite the rapidly dimming light, I felt inspired to make the daily draw.
Best hotel yet – I’ll give it 5* and one to make note of to drag Steve to in the future (after all, it’s within driving distance, via Eurotunnel?). 

​It was cold and I spent a restless night so I wasn’t best pleased to hear tent pegs being banged in all around me at 6am.  I put my coat over my head and went back to sleep with the feel of the sun warming the tent.  I was surprised then, to be woken up again by the sound of heavily accented English at the door of my tent – Werner had come to give me breakfast – a bag full of fresh croissants and a roll.  It was around 8.30am and I quickly unzipped the tent flap to say thanks, rather groggily, as he wished me well on my trip to Australia.  I didn’t see him again – but appreciated the thoughtfulness very much, especially when I realised (later) that what I believed was a plain roll was ready buttered and marmaladed!  
 
I was tired and slow after the poor night’s kip, and not sure which town to head for.  Not had wifi for several days now, so no downloaded map again.  Once more, out with the compass and head in a NE direction.  I followed a ‘panoramic’ route from Lichtenbad to Rudolfstein, along a gravelly footpath that ran alongside a river through woods – with many walkers for company.   The River eventually ran into the bigger River Saale with quite a few ups and downs. 
 
In Hirschberg, after crossing over a main highway, I couldn’t find anyone who spoke English to ask directions of, so I pushed Rowenna up a 22% hill just because.  The view at the top was worth it and I do believe it was a good decision as it definitely took a traffic free route through smaller villages in the direction I wanted to go in. 
 
I stopped to take a picture of a beautiful, perfect but lonesome narcissi – and ended up getting the grass in perfect focus and the flower itself completely blurred (so you won’t be seeing that one).  While I was kneeling there with the camera, a young bloke stopped his car to ask if I was OK – and spoke excellent English.  He reassured me that there was a restaurant not half a km up the road (I hadn’t eaten anything since Werner’s rolls).   Spontaneous offers of assistance always brighten the day! 
I ordered Kangaroo stew with dumplings and rostakraut: weird but tasty and suiting the colder weather.  That with johannisbeersaft (blackcurrant juice)   and I was replete – set me up for another couple of hours cycling at any rate, though I wasn’t going to break any records again today.   I even dozed off over my knitting after eating I think –and the waitress cleared away and didn’t disturb me! 
 
It was all downhill just about, from Juchhöh.  There was even (briefly) a tail wind – then I flew!  I’m a little bit more trepidatious about going downhill as the balance between panniers isn’t perfect and there can be a distinct wobble at high speeds, so I’m probably wearing the brake pads out.  I was on top of the world and could see down along valleys – great swathes of farmland with small islands of trees.  The road itself was lined with ancient oak trees every 20-30yards (ah, back to imperial!).  They were a different shape than usual, these oaks, encouraged to grow tall by the regular pruning of lower branches I guess. 
 
I saw two Middle Spotted (got that courtesy of google) Woodpeckers close by – obviously two males having a brief territorial spat as one swooped in, made a lot of noise and kerfuffle with the other one, then swooped off back the way it had come.   It was the red cap and pinkish colouring that helped me identify them.
 
I rode into Plauen past dilapidated, sad and once grand buildings.   They made me feel a little nervous with their smashed windows and doors hanging off, as there were few people around on the edge of the city.  But I soon got into city proper – modern  buildings – wifi!  While I was looking for accommodation, a young couple pointed me in the direction of the Youth Hostel – or Jugundeherberge.de (DJH) as it is in Deutschland – transformed from an old firestation.  The couple had told me that it was a building where fireworks were, so I was expecting a gunpowder factory at the very least.  It was  a huge building and they’d used the building’s historic use as a theme for the décor – firebox red, old photographs of the firemen and engines, children’s drawings of fireengines.
It was the nicest Youth Hostel I’ve stayed in so far, in Europe.