OOoer,  didn’t realise it was Friday 13th!  Will try to be extra careful today.  Couldn’t get any decent wifi in Kronach – none in the fortress and useless in the restaurant I went to for supper- so I don’t know where I’m going but roughly N.E should do it.  After breakfast, the manager of the Hostel shook my hand very solemnly when I departed. 
 
I’m headed for Wallenfels and I’ve just had a black squirrel run across my path – not at all like a grey squirrel, more the size of a red squirrel, with the same tufted ears – cute!  I’ve been told they exist but wasn’t expecting to see one.
 
As I was riding through a place called Unterrodach (I’m following the Rodach again) I think to myself, what I need is a Macdonalds, so I can use the wifi to download a map so I can figure out a route… and there it was!  I conjured one up!  (vile places that they are).  It was just as well I did check my route as Wallenfels is south of where I want to go – but I’m on the right road (phew).  Hills today, whichever way I go. 
 
I followed the Rodach until it was but a small stream tumbling over boulders and the valley itself gradually crept in on both sides to squeeze the disused railway and the road.  A lot of the slate walling the valley had been hemmed in with wire to prevent injury from falling rocks.  I missed a turning and, as a result, cycled a slightly long way round to Geraldsgrun but it wasn’t too hard with just a little pushing uphill, which (dare I say this) I quite like as it changes my position.   Clouds continued to gather, and after a long spin downhill to a place called Bobengrün, I was pleased to spot what looked like a camping sign.   I followed it – and inadvertently ended up gatecrashing a huge, international Christian gathering.  I spoke to Werner, one of the organisers I think.  Fortunately for me, it’s just getting organised for the weekend – and not actually happening until tomorrow. He says I’m very welcome to camp tonight and there is running water, WCs etc. all set up.  He also tells me a little of the history (he speaks excellent English) – ‘Pfingsttagung Bobengrün’ has been taking place annually for the last 100years.  It’s a Whitsun gathering of Christians which started with just 35 people and has continued, gathering momentum, even during the second world war when the Nazis said it was ‘verboten’.  In fact, he goes on, they were the first organisation to ask France to join them after the war – and the two Presidents met as a result.  This weekend, thousands will turn up to celebrate God’s word in the forest.  It looked very well organised – with a stage and speakers attached to the trees all around, tents going up and marquees and parking places signed all over the village.  I guess Bobengrün is taken over completely (like Lustleigh show on a large scale!).  I was pleased to tell Werner about Woodcraft Folk (the childrens’ organisation to which I belong), though I didn’t mention its secularism, I did mention its emphasis on Peace and ‘Spanning the World with Friendship” and that they had been the first childrens’ organisation in GB to invite German children to their International Camp after the Second World War had ended.
 
So here I am, while it’s raining and thundering outside, I am snug in my tent high on a hill, surrounded by pine forests and its 7.30pm.  The rain stopped as I set up my sleeping area – I was disappointed to note that the mat had sprung a leak AGAIN.  Decided to deal with this later as food was a priority. 
 
I strolled back down the hill to town and went in the first place I’d seen.  I think it was closing but whatever, the manager had a slightly panicked look at having a foreigner in his place and kept saying “nein, nein” so I toddled off again rather quickly.  
 
About 500m down the road (blimey, have I gone metric there?) I came across a lively place with an English speaking barmaid/waitress who not only was a mother of a 3 and 5yr old, but a qualified pharmacist, a part time Legal Secretary AND a knitter.  Bona fide knitter too, as she didn’t get bored being shown the logistics of an English thrower’s purl stitch.   She was fascinated by my knitting style, evidently never having seen anyone who doesn’t knit in the German/Continental ‘picking’ style before. 
 
She knew all about the Christian gathering – no one who lives in the village could fail to I think, as it’s SO huge.  She says its lovely and she usually takes the children up for the Sunday from about 10am, for the day, but this year she couldn’t as she was working.   
 
Michaela (for that was her name) told me how she once had a very well paid job as a pharmacist, working near Munich.  However, when she married, both she and her husband wanted to return to their home town (Bobengrün) to raise their children.  Jobs are hard to come by – especially if you have two small children who can sometimes fall ill – and there are plenty of folk who don’t have children who are willing to go the extra mile who are competition.  So that’s why she has three jobs that fit around child rearing.  (I say three, because she has also started selling home made bags online and gave me her card – designed by her husband because that’s what HE does).  Doesn’t this story sound oh so familiar?
 
Our conversation was frequently interrupted by her having to pull pints, but inbetween tasks she would return for a chat while I sat there quite happily knitting on my Shetland shawl (only one border to go and it’s done!).  I asked her about another German phenomenon that has surprised me – that there are cigarette machines in every town!  I haven’t seen a cigarette machine in the UK since I was a teenager!   She agreed it was surprising but said that smoking has just been banned in public places – like restaurants.  One exception is a private party. 
I enjoyed getting to know a little of Michaela’s life and gave her a reasonable tip – she had encouraged me to have a local seasonal speciality (one that Sophie Quesnay had also told me about) – white asparagus (ie blanched) with hollandaise sauce.  It was subtle but tasty.  I’ve seen asparagus on sale all over France and Germany (along with strawberries – mmmm).
 
It was quite late  when I walked back up the hill to the campsite.  All was quiet. 
I still had to repair my sleeping mat – particularly as the temperature had really plummeted tonight and the mat insulates me from the damp ground.  I took the mat and my pillow-pump to the sinks – finding the hole was not going to be easy! 
The WC block is all lit up and there is a row of sinks (or more like a long trough) outside.  I lay the mat in the trough best I could and ran water over – looking for a tell tale line of bubbles or the feeling of air escaping.  I glanced up and was surprised to see a huge crucifix all lit up, floating over the top of the pine trees!  How come I didn’t notice that before?  Eery!  The cross was quite far away on the next hill – this site was obviously spread over a wide area.  Then I found the hole – tiny.  I couldn’t quite believe I’d found it.  I dried that little patch and smeared glue over it immediately – it’s supposed to take 5-10mins to dry to tacky stage when one had to stick a little patch over the top to prevent the glue from sticking to sleeping bags etc.  By the time I got back to the tent the glue should be dry enough.  The instructions say that this is a “Quick repair in the middle of the night, so you can get back to sleep”.  What???!  Who wrote that?  Had they ever tried it out?  What are they ON?   The whole thing must have taken at least an hour.  I also worried about waking the neighbours with the sound of heavy breathing as I re-inflated the mat.  My mat was also still sopping wet – so I dried it as best as I could then lay the towel between mat and sleeping bag in an effort to keep my sleeping bag, and me, from getting too damp.   The night remained still and I did eventually get to sleep.
 

A leisurely start to the day, sitting on Karin’s balcony having breakfast  (has anyone noticed how most of my days start in ‘leisurely’ fashion these days?).  We’re watching the two pairs of bluetits feeding their chicks, nesting in the two boxes attached to a couple of trees in the landlord’s well kept garden below us.   Karin says her landlord and lady downstairs are genuinely lovely people – and they certainly know how to make their garden look beautiful – I especially like the islands of unmowed lawn filled with wild flowers, and the fruit and veg maturing.  The balcony also overlooks the town of Lichtenfels: like Lisa’s, the house is up on a hill.  However the sky is overcast and dull this morning. 
 
I have about 90miles left to get to Susanne’s in Schönheide – make that about 100miles to account for me getting lost in Industrial Estates and I’ve still got time to pause and look around at ‘sights’, as Susanne is away this coming weekend and not back until the Monday.  Karin suggests Kronach as a good place to stop as the old city is still walled and intact and the Fortress overlooking the place is spectacular and is famous for never having been breached.  It’s also not far, at about 20miles, so suits me.
 
So here I am, once again following the small rectangular cycle path signs, tacked to lamp posts, on a path sandwiched between the River Main (getting smaller now) and the railway.   Don’t believe I’ll be seeing any more of those huge Cruise Boats.   I’m being serenaded by a blackbird as I write this – so loud, even I can hear him! 
 
As I passed Schürbitz, I saw a man coming out of a store clutching a traditional looking suit on a hanger.  I paused to check out the store, which sold Bavarian costumes and couldn’t resist taking several photographs – I particularly liked the knitted jackets and hosiery.  Get your lederhosen here! 
 
Coming into Gruben, a Green Woodpecker swooped across the path in front of me – red head, green body – lovely splash of colour (and I’m impressed that I finally recognise a bird!).  Not a few minutes later a hare dashed from the shorn grass into the long grass: so much more lippety-loppety than a rabbit.  I’ve seen more hares on this trip than I’ve seen before in my life.  And lots of starlings – spotting a starling in England seems a rarer thing than it used to be, but they’re common again in Germany.  I’m seeing herons – big, dark ones, and Storks just about every day.  Did you play ‘spot the heron’ in that photograph I took the other day?    I’m seeing a large number of thrush size birds in the meadows – in fact, they might BE thrushes – but they have a dark tail, white bottoms and underneath, speckledy chests (not all over) and bluegrey across the wings and on the head.  I could do with a resident ornithologist to tell me what all the passerines I see are too.  Steve?  Malc?  Where are you when I need you?  I can recognise a nuthatch now – I’ve seen several quite close up, climbing trees – one found a caterpillar in the bark and shook it at me quite triumphantly before disappearing around the other side.    But I get confused with finches, tits, wagtails – and they fly off so quickly it’s hard to get a record of definitive markings.  It’s fun to try though.   I’ve been trying to identify a small bird with such distinctive colours I thought it would be easy: it had bright English mustard coloured chest and head and reddish back/wings and was fairly small – robin sized.  Looking online, closest I can come to match it is a yellow hammer. 
 
The landscape I’m passing now, is a cross between industrial – with lots of soil moving machinery in evidence, farmland and residential, interspersed with trees (I know – that just about covers everything, doesn’t it?).  I’m still in a river valley but I’ve left the River Main behind and am following a tributary called the Rodach, then another tributary called the Haßlach took me into the outskirts of Kronach.  As I crossed a bridge I paused to watch the ducks on an gravelly island in the middle of this river.  Just as I was about to move on, a small mammal dashed off the island and started swimming to the bank – I watched it reach the side and climb out – it had a longish tail and stumpy legs and a flattish face.  I’m fairly sure it was a water vole (as opposed to a brown rat). 
 
Not long after I crossed this bridge I got my first sight of Kronach set in the hillside before me, impressive buildings crowned with the great Rosenberg Fortress flying its flag.  Then I rode through a pretty park with fountains and statues to get to it.  There are modern suburbs surrounding the central, medieval buildings and cobbled streets, of course, but the core remains intact and well preserved.  I had to push my bicycle uphill across the cobbles and through stone arches to find the tourist information in the Rathaus (which I now know is the Town Hall, not an experimental maze). 
 
The woman in the Tourist Information place was very helpful when I asked for cheap accommodation or camping.  She told me there was a hostel in the Fortress itself – ideal!  She also gave me some history crib sheets as the town is very proud to be the birth place of Lukas ‘Cranach’, the Elder – who I’ve never heard of, but who was a contemporary of Albrecht Dürer, who I have.  (I’ve seen his paintings of “A Large Piece of Turf” and “A Hare” in the flesh, as it were, and been singularly impressed).   Cranach, by all accounts, was prolific, successful and great friends with Martin Luther.  I liked his signature – a winged serpent, with a ruby ring in its mouth.  There were red versions of this painted on the pavements at various places around the city I noticed (probably marking important sites of interest – like where he was born).    
 
Kronach, or its environs, has been inhabited for over a 1000yrs – that’s a long history!  The city still has a wall (like Exeter) but only one gate remains – the Bamburg gate.  Kronach used to be part of Bamburg – but, since 1802, has been part of Bavaria.  I won’t bore you with details (I’m doing enough of that) – but suffice to say the history involved a  lot of Princes fighting each other over territory and power – the usual stories. 
 
The Rosenberg Fortress itself is imposing and has been added to over centuries.  It has indeed never been breached and many a Prince has put it to siege and gone away defeated.  There was one ‘sit-in’ by peasants back in the 14th century but that was the only time it came close to being invaded and the peasants were soon routed.  The outer walls in the shape of a pentagon were added to in the 18th century  - and the building was used as a POW residence for officers in the First World War – including one Charles De Gaulle!  I thought that was interesting.  He made two attempts to escape – though he was caught both times – and he obviously survived to go on to become President of France.
 
With all this history, I was expecting at least a few ghosts.  There’s what looks like a prison right outside the Fortress – an old building with many cameras, lights and much razor wire.  As I was walking back to the hostel past this place, late in the evening, a ghastly groan came from one of the blocked up and barred windows.  But in the Castle itself?  Nothing.   Not a sausage – just a bit of noise from the wedding party from earlier in the day. 
 
There’s a lot of activity setting up tents and marquees all around the Fortress ready for the “Crana Historica” Society’s Medieval (biennial) festival this weekend – I’d quite liked to have hung around for this – it looked to be interesting.  But move along, move along – I’ve got a bit of a ways to go!

​Luxury: lounging around in my tent, in my jimjams, in my sleeping bag, with wifi, so on t’internet (communicating with Juliet from ‘Fibre Harvest’).  There are two ducks with their heads tucked under their wings just outside the tent door.  Occasionally there’s a noise like a bus, and a long, long boat will go past on the River Main.  I saw one boat with a car on its roof.  Then several HUGE River Cruise Ships went past, which appeared to be full of retirees sat in armchairs waving at me.  I waved back – I’m not shy! 
 
I got a response to my email to Pension Heuler re Welly the runaway mascot sheep.  They have found her and rescued her before she got rained on.  They have offered to send her home (in disgrace) or send her on ahead so she can continue the journey to Australia, which is really lovely of them.  They also wished me “fine company and no holes in my wheels” which is exactly the sort of response one would expect from such an excellent guest house – Go there, people!  It’s a great place for a getaway! 
 
While I have the internet I’ve managed to arrange a couch to surf on in Lichtenfels with Karin – this gives me somewhere definite to aim for (otherwise I give up to easy and am only too happy to lounge around somewhere sunny with a beer).   And while I’m on a roll, I complete daily draw 129 (the fried eggs in purple baskets one). 
 
It was a beautiful, sunny morning, though rain is still forecast.    When I finally climbed out of bed to have breakfast – I was joined by Norbert again, come to say hello and goodbye.  He works in a factory across the other side of the river but is hoping for redundancy – and the accompanying payout.    He is divorced with grown up children and a girlfriend who lives elsewhere and with whom he communicates mostly via instagram (probably why he was photographing the meadow yesterday).  He told me another story from his travelling days, of another guy who didn’t wash or change for 4 entire weeks: eugh – I smelled bad enough after 3 DAYS let alone weeks.  Quentin Crisp said that dust doesn’t get any thicker after 4 years – maybe it’s the same with body odour.  I gave Norbert a wee painting with blog address on back and he gave me a packet of dextrose tablets in case of need for emergency energy boost - stuck in pencil case at moment – must transfer to first aid kit!  We wished each other all the best, and said ‘auf weidersehen’ – what a kind fellow.
 
I got chatting to a few other folk on the site before I left – particularly interesting were the German couple who had brought their van to the site for a couple days and ended up staying for their full holiday.  They had previously toured all of Europe and the stop offs were painted all over the house bit of their van – along with the country stickers.  They had friends in Exeter (small world – unless you’re Spike Milligan who managed to travel around the world and NOT meet anyone who he’d met previously and thought it was BIG world).
 
Karin, my host tonight, isn’t available until 8.30pm so I didn’t feel the need to get going until gone midday (that morning inertia and any old excuse).   Getting back on the right path proved slightly difficult as I ended up touring an industrial estate yet again: they must exert some kind of vortical force which sucks you in and won’t let you go.  After much to-ing and fro-ing I decided to follow the road instead of the river to Zeil-a-Main – more direct as cuts off a loop, if a tad noisier. 
 
After this, I was supposed to turn left and head for the hills in Ebelsbach/Gleisenau but, after trying to follow cycle signs, a man climbing out of his car and about to walk his two dogs assured me the woodland trail I was cycling along led in a circle and didn’t go anywhere.  So I headed back into town and onto the next village of Stettfield and turned left through the woods there.  
 
I ended up doing two sides of a triangle instead of one – and followed a similar woodland trail – through pine and deciduous trees and traffic free (if one ignores the two humungous tractors that drove past).  I was in the hills again and, much though I loath climbing them, I adore the scenery.  I don’t think I could live in Norfolk, for example – far too much sky.   Zooming downhill is fun too, so long as there is tarmac and not loose gravel under the wheels. 
 
From Rudendorf (every place seems to end with a ‘dorf’ today, and not ‘heim’ like the other day) it was fairly straightforward to follow the small white metal rectangles with their green borders and green arrows and a picture of bicycle on.  I only missed them twice today – but when I do, it’s usually a bit of a twoozle to find the right route again.   
 
I’ve been hearing cuckoos all week – but heard one really close and clearly this evening. 
 
I arrived in Lichtenfels at 21.15hrs – which is not a totally unreasonable time (unlike poor Beate and Katja who had me come calling at 11pm).  I’ve also got fairly close to the mileage the map says I should have done – only TEN miles out.  Now I’m sat here in the Marktplaz having a beer while I wait for Karin to collect her daughter before coming to collect me. 
 
I’m ravenous – after breakfast, I had a cheese and salad roll in a supermarket café and then later on, spotted a BIKE café (novel!) which had the most scrumdiddlyumptious apricot ‘kuchen’ and a spicy cold milky tea concoction called Tiger chai – really tasty.   But cycling builds up an appetite!
 
I felt good today – perhaps because it wasn’t so hot.  There was still the wind in the face but mostly flat cycling with just a few hills to liven it up, and interesting scenery.    Only 100miles or so to Susanne’s in Schönheide – where it looks like I can have a few days off it looks like.  She is ‘Hotsock’ on Ravelry, a Travel Agent by trade and someone who has kindly taken a keen interest in my travels since way back at the planning stage.   I have three parcels awaiting me at her address already!  I’ve been very grateful for her assistance to date – everything would have been much more problematic without such help and friendship.
 
Karin turns up with a smile and a hug: I haven’t quite finished my beer so I buy her one too.  Thinks to self – this nightly beer is habit forming – must desist!
The weather is cooling so that will help, as it’s the cold, thirst quenching liquid I hanker after, following a dusty day’s travel.
 
Karin walks me back to her flat.  Her 17yr old daughter, Nina, is old fashioned and disapproves strongly of her mother couchsurfing,  Karin, however,  and fortunately for me, loves travelling and feels this hosting should be reciprocal.   
 
Karin is a nanny by trade, a rarity in Germany apparently, as only well off people can afford to employ them and the State offers cheaper alternatives.  She cares for a 7yr old girl and a 15yr old boy.  She is a dancer in her off duty time – there are pictures of her dressed in Middle Eastern attire with gauzy, whispy shawls floating in the air around her.  She split from her husband 5yrs ago, but lives close so that their two children, Nina and Tim can spend time with both her and her ex. Partner.  I didn’t meet her son Tim, but he is very sporty, as can be seen from action photographs from basket ball games, decorating the walls in Karin’s flat.
 
Karin adores being a mum and we (as happens sometimes, when one mentions being a retired midwife) discussed birth stories – Karin’s were relatively quick and straightforward.   Karin made me a pasta dish with homemade pesto – which I devoured before taking a wonderful, glorious shower.  Nothing quite like it when one is sticky from a day’s exertion.  Even though it was a breeze, it’s surprising how grubby one can feel after cycling along in the wake of tractors raising up clouds of dust.   I fall into bed with hair still wet (declining offer of hairdryer – makes for a far more interesting hair style in the morning).

​I am aiming for a campsite along the river somewhere – I’m a bit vague about precisely where.  Didn’t get going until fairly late, again, as the canteen was empty and the dining room manager made me an entire jug of coffee to myself, so I did my best to drink it.  When I rescued Rowenna from her incarceration in the bowels of the building, there were a few young refugee lads hanging around outside smoking cigarettes and texting or muttering into their phones.  They smiled when I said hello, and looked so young and handsome.
 
Cycling back to the river in Schweinfurt, I stopped off at a market to buy some strawberries to eat later.  I have absolutely no intention of going far today as it continues to be that sticky kind of hot which saps energy.
 
At lunchtime, with only 10miles under my belt, I stopped for lunch at a café flying a Greek flag alongside the German flag – a cheap pizza and a huge glass of apple juice. 
 
It started to cloud over as I cycle on, alongside the river Main, threatening rain, but only a few large drops plop down, whilst the atmosphere stayed humid and heavy.
 
When I reach Haßfurt, where there is supposed to be a campsite, several folk I ask just shrug their shoulders when I ask.  Then I meet Norbert.  His bicycle is propped on its stand nearby whilst he is down on his knees with his I-phone taking pictures of, what?  the meadow flowers?  There are plenty of buttercups and dandelion heads around.  Norbert DOES know of a couple of places – and he’s happy to show me the way.  As we cycle along (back the way I came, for a short distance, before turning into town) he reminisces about his own travels when he was a young man (he’s about the same age as me I think).  There was once a time when all young German men had to do a couple years military service and many went travelling to escape this – Norbert was one.  He met an English couple and they’d hitched to Turkey (and beyond).  It sounded to me like he’d been on the hippy trail, the Old Silk Road that was so popular in the late sixties, early seventies.  He said they’d made loads of money busking – more than enough to keep them in food and accommodation for ages.  “Did I know the Edgar Broughton band?”, he asked quite randomly.  “Yes”, I replied – “my husband, Steve wants an Edgar Broughton Band track played at his funeral”.  And that seemed to be the end of THAT conversation.
 
We came to one place where he said I could stay indoors for a donation – a sort of communal house where there wasn’t necessarily a bed.  Sounded interesting but we moved on to look at the other place he had in mind.  The turned out to be the Naturfreunde campsite I’d been looking for in the first place and was ideal – camping by the river for €6 with a guesthouse/bier garten providing good food on site.  I bought Norbert a beer to say thanks – and then he was gone – but not before saying hello to a family sitting at the table next to us who obviously knew him.    
 
After Norbert left, and we’d moved inside the restaurant to escape the chilling evening, I started talking to the family – who were curious about my adventure and if I was scared about being alone, what route I was taking etc. etc.  Julia was a young teenager who was the raison d’etre for the gathering – she had just been confirmed the previous Sunday and (as Beate had said) there had been a big party, lots of presents and a big gathering of friends and family.  Julia’s mother Susanne, and her sister Doris (over from Montreal for the occasion), and Julia’s godparents were enjoying a special supper  - having desert when I started chatting to them.  
 
Julia was eager to practise her English – I learned that she adored the Warrior-Cats (so had Beate’s daughter Sanja iirc) – and she’d even built her own website as a venue where fans of Warrior Cats could chat and meet online.  She’d read most of the vast series – but still had about 4 to go.  She then went and got a book to show me and was soon engrossed in it – despite a mild remonstration from her mother.     
 
When the godparents left, Suzanne and Doris stayed to chat for a while (Julia disappeared off to the car to read her book in peace).  The conversation ranged from Octobrefest, the big beer festival which none of us had attended, to the German nature of the British Royal Family – their name before Windsor being Saxe-Coburg – very local!   The Canadians adore the Royal Family and the newspapers are full of Kate and William there – apart from the French in Canada who want Quebec to be a separate state.
 
When I was left on my own, I pitched my tent and prepared my bed before going and having a fine supper and one more beer.  I slept well. 
 
 

​Woke early – around 06.30hrs, and decided to pack up fairly promptly with just a banana for breakfast.  Anyone that knows me will recall that I’m not at my best first thing.  So ‘packing up promptly’ means 5 mins of staring into space, then roll up sleeping bag and stuff into sack, followed by 5 more mins of staring into space, repeat ad infinitum.  
 
I had got everything out of tent and was preparing to dismantle tent when I heard a car pull up and doors slam – just below where I’d camped, on the lane.  I could vaguely see white down the bank through the hedge/trees.   Fortunately my tent is green and well camouflaged.  I hardly dared breath as I didn’t fancy trying to explain to an irate German farmer what I was doing on his land, squashing his meadow hay.  (Nuffink what a good dose of rain wouldn’t cure, officer!).  Shortly after the car arrived (around 7.30am) an engine started up – probably a tractor and the sound moved further away up the lane.  I quickly packed up the wet tent (no staring off into space now) and brought Rowenna and the bags further down the lane to pack up, feeling like a thief.  I was very relieved to zoom away with no confrontation.
 
I stop off in Groß Osterheim to have a coffee and milkshake – which is the best breakfast I can find - and to blog a little.  A little while after that, I sat on a bench within sight of a pair of nuthatches (I presume) busily feeding their chicks (I presume) in a man made nesting box tacked to a tree.  I took some very bad photographs of them both. 
 
Not much later – after a wee diversion across a field (of course), I come to Aschaffenburg and stop for lunch.   A guy in a phone shop shows me how to get my prepaid credit onto the phone and puts a new plastic protective covering across the screen.   I met another guy called Tony up the road, raising funds for a rescue organisation very like the one that Barry Sessions works for.  This is a dog rescue organisation with two kinds of dogs – field dogs, who find people in earthquakes etc and water dogs, who can sniff out people at risk of drowning.  Dogs have such brilliant noses!  This guy had cycled to Austria and we discussed routes briefly.  After this, I ended up having a Thai meal for lunch – I’d missed having many veggies with dinner, and it was lovely to have crinkle cut cucumbers, carrots and fresh green broccoli florets stir fried in a peanut sauce.  Iced tea with lime slices to follow and I am replete.
Of course, I took a wrong turn coming out of Aschaffenburg: I was wanting to head North, and ended up on a road which veered slightly more east-south easterly and instead of Hoßbach, I ended up in Haibach.  It was a lovely ride down hill – with me thinking all the way, oh dear, there’s probably an ‘up’ after this!  So, what’s in a few letters?  A few hills I think. 
 
I still wanted to go to Lohr a Main, but a gentleman came up and said it would take far too long as there was a gurt mountain in the way- and pointed towards the hills in the distance.  What, no camping locally either?  It was getting a little late so I was easily persuaded to take the train which he said was regular and would take the bicycle too.  Ha!  I shouldn’t have listened!   The next train to Lohr wasn’t until 22.23hrs (and it was only about 6pm at this stage).  I’d bought the ticket though, if only just for the experience of using the electric trains.
I ended up in a bier garten with wifi across the road from the station –where the waitress was dressed in Bavarian costume and I got cheese and ham (with pineapple, so they called it Hawaii!) on toast for supper while I waited. 
 
Observations:   There are an awful lot of ‘Fahrts’ around.  I’ve since googled it and find it means ‘way’ or ‘direction’ but I can’t help feeling slightly juvenile as I giggle.   There was even a ‘Wolf-fahrt’ (slightly longer ending but you get the gist) which I took note of, especially for Rafe as I thought he’d like that one.
I also note that only the German nation could make sure that every single one of their public clocks are in full working order. 
They also have dog-poo bag holders attached to all their dustbins – and they are full!  WE’ve had the same idea in Britain – but I don’t think I’ve EVER seen any dog poo bags in one of those dispensers.
 
While I was waiting for the train – I contacted the Youth Hostel in Lohr, only to discover that it is full – a special weekend for Algerian/Afghanistan folk as far as I could make out.  There is a campingplatz not 5mins away from the station/Bahnoff – so I decide to head for there instead. 
 
Getting the bicycle onto the train was a palaver I could have done without – even with the assistance of the conductor.  The train had nice wide doors but was a huge jump up from the platform.  Getting Rowenna off was equally difficult as the conductor wasn’t around.  Then I had to get her down one flight of steps and up two to exit.  Rowenna is very heavy fully laden. 
 
The campsite wasn’t far – but packed with motorhomes and static caravans and family sized tents.  The Germans have bagsied the best pitches all along the riverside – marked off with little fences and fairy lights.  They bring everything with them on a camping holiday it seems: I saw trampolines, fully stocked bars, sun loungers, tables, chairs – puts even the Ravelry Happy Campers to shame.
In the end I squeeze my wee tent in between a parked car and an obviously empty large tent. 
 
My wee tent is still soaking wet from the quick get away this morning.  Eugh.  I wipe it down as best I can, and sleep well.  The sun wakes me up as it’s very hot again today – 

I get up feeling refreshed and try to remember the tai chi routine – failing miserably but enjoying the stretches – the spacious balcony is the perfect place for this.   There are critters living in the crack between the boards of the balcony and the wall, I note.  Last night there was an enormous spider sitting just inside the insect screen but outside the glass doors.  This morning there is a light coloured bottomed bee flying busily in and out of the same space (albeit a bit further along). 
 
Excellent breakfast from an eat as much as you like buffet – with a couple jugs of coffee to rev me up.  Along with the usual selection of meats, fish, cheeses, cereals, jams, honeys, juice, hot boiled egg,  salads, breads and croissants (I could go on) there was also a samovar for tea…
I felt inspired to make several daily draws (a bit of catching up to do) and was completely surprised when this attracted an audience of staff (and a couple of curious guests too)– who then gave me a guest book to write about my cycle ride in (so I included in a picture). I also remembered to make a roll up for lunch (takeaway).
 
Today is pleasant cycling – following well posted signs (that make sense!) following first the railway (electric) and then the River Main.
I stopped for lunch to sit on a bench overlooking a pond and was soon joined by an elderly German man who spoke little English.  He spread out his handkerchief fastidiously so he could sit on the bench next to me, then opened a bottle of beer  - called Herzog something (the beer I mean – the man was called Andreas).   From a mixture of sign language, the occasional English word and context I gathered he had an Australian friend he’d not seen for years, that he was 70+yrs old, that he had a daughter who spoke excellent English, that the beer was good and that he loved nature, and the pond had huge carp in it.  At around this point, a huge carp leapt out of the water as if to illustrate his point.  He also said the pond was privately owned.  I accused him of secretly fishing in it and he didn’t deny it.  I also persuaded him to let me try his beer – dark, bitter, warm and not unpleasant – sort of like a stout, without the full body. 
 
I carried on, all rather lovely and breezy – apart from that the breeze was head on.  Would have been wonderful indeed if it had been a tail wind – but one can’t have it all, I suppose.  It was at this point I realised that Welly was not at her usual station:  Argh!  The traitor(ess)!!!  She had jumped ship back at the Pension Heuler (ie, I had left her on the table when I loaded up the bicycle that morning).  It was too far to go back.  (Really it was).  I resolved to email Pension Heuler later that evening.  I guess I can’t blame her at all – she obviously hadn’t liked being strapped in on the bicycle with a bungee, even though the view was excellent, and it WAS very nice at the Pension. 
I don’t know what they’ll do with a stray sheep – but I hope they care for her (she can be a bit of a handful).  Or even send her back to me. 
I continue on, slightly sadder, but endeavouring to maintain a better posture on the bike takes concentration.  I’ve noticed that straightening my back and aligning my head also changes the position of my bum on the saddle – to the detriment.  I continue to experiment all the way into Schweinfurt – a bloody big city on the Main.  At this point, I decide enough is enough and to seek shelter.  I am turned away from the first Youth Hostel – I am beginning to suspect that all Youth Hostels are being used as temporary accommodation for refugees from Syria/Afghanistan etc.  The woman suggests a camping place in a small place on the outskirts called Heinig – I am on my way there when I spot ANOTHER DJH  - this place DOES have a bed – in fact, an entire dormitory to myself.  The first floor of this place is given over to young male refugees (lads without parents, the manager says).    They are noisy late in the evening (odd thumps and sounds echo through the building) but, to give them their due, it all settles down before midnight.   I have to pay €4 extra for being over 27yrs old (and she didn’t even look at my passport!) – this surcharge is peculiarly German, I’m told.  The hostel is cheap and cheerful – and nothing like last night’s luxury.

​I have been meaning to try and see a physiotherapist or similar about my neck and left arm – I have been experiencing pins and needles down my arms – particularly the left, during and after cycling (Poppy and I discussed it and riding posture).  Now I don’t seem to have the pins and needles, just a numb little and ring finger on the left hand which makes knitting and holding a fork very clumsy.  Lisa had phoned up her knitting and spinning friend Britta who also happens to be a physio, and she’d agreed to see me at 9am.   This is another one of those random things that comes together very nicely and luckily because – as Britta pointed out – it was her day off, and normally the good physiotherapists are booked up weeks in advance. 
 
It was a 10km round trip to the suburbs, approximately- and Lisa came with me on her bicycle.   Beautiful sunny morning for a short ride.  I was cricked and pushed about by Britta and given an exercise to do after riding every day, and instructions on posture.  I must stop riding about with my head sticking out like a tortoise from its shell and must line up my head and back like a lady.  I am grateful for the advice as I need my hands in good order.
 
Back at Lisa’s, I have a second breakfast, along with her two warm and smily guests – Frank (her ex) and his twin brother Jurg.   We have the usual continental style breakfast – a selection of breads, cheeses, meats, dips, some strange doughnut balls and STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM.  It’s no wonder I suspect I am not losing any weight despite the exercise.
 
I pack and away – loaded up with lunch, water, fruit.  Once again I have been treated royally and thoroughly spoiled. 
 
My sister and her partner Ants skyped me t’other night (which was great) and Ants says I do “go on”.   Now, I’m sure if I was a chap, I’d give a summary of miles, money spent, average speed, altitude, weather conditions in precise and orderly fashion etc. etc.   I apologise to all you dear readers for the lack of editing and the stream of consciousness stuff –but it seems to take long enough just writing it this way, let alone go back and rejig.   Just gloss over the detritus!  (I know Jane Summers is!).
 
Now I’m following the railway – and it is so hot, I have dared expose a little leg: just a little. 
 
Must take more care: I had a ‘near miss’ where I ignored the red bicycle light as all the traffic seemed stationary, and crossed the road whilst looking the wrong way.  A car zoomed past blaring his horn, and I swear it was inches away.  That’s another life down (if we have lives like cats).  In those previous posts about slugs and beetles playing chicken, substitute the word ‘Terri’ for slug and you get the picture.  It took a while for my heart rate to go back to normal.
 
After that, much safer cycling along designated paths – and a kind gentleman accompanied me (on yet another electric bicycle) into Eberstardt before veering off to go home.
I got lost in Rossdoft and ended up in a residential backstreet.  I finally found a woman to ask the way, and she directed me up a no through road.  I queried her wisdom but she seemed adamant that I could go there.  So I ended up in yet another field which then led to a golf course!  But in due course, I did end up on the road and closer to my destination.
 
After chocolate, I found Groß Umstadt – its centre all cobbled and Bavarian buildings all lit up.  I decided to indulge in a schnitzel (as I’ve never had one before) and a beer, while I searched for accommodation on t’internet. 
 
Nothing doing, so rode out of town in a Northerly direction, looking for places to stealth camp again.  Went past three boys standing near a small dying deer – a police car with flashing light turned up – I guess they’d called them.  Needless to say, I didn’t stop.
 
I saw a farm lane to the right and pushed my bicycle up it to investigate – it was getting very dark by now.   Past some woods and came out in a sloping meadow with a flattish bit near the hedge at the bottom.   There was long grass which I flattened with my tent – being vaguely aware of Keith Bourne’s admonition to beware of snakes (didn’t see any) and Lisa’s warning about ticks (didn’t see any of those either).  Went straight to sleep.
 

​Leisurely breakfast and mega catch up on the blog front.  Then Lisa and I stroll down into town – which is busy because it’s a Bank Holiday and it’s also sunny (those two events which are mutually exclusive in the UK).   There is a red line drawn along the pavement – Lisa explains that there was some kind of beer festival last night – which involves following the trail and much beer tasting.
We had lunch, which was only slightly marred by a grumpy waitress who was mildly pissed off by the tourist playing with the money and perhaps because she was working on the holiday, or whatever, because she flounced off before I’d finished paying, saying (Lisa translated) “Oh, I haven’t got time for this” as I was attempting to count out some change.
 
We had a stroll around the new and old parts of Bensheim and then up into vineyards and allotments.  The Germans are fond of allotments outside of the city where they can come and spend the weekend or an evening camping out and gardening or sunbathing, it seems.
 
Back to Lisa’s apartment (in a very NICE area of town!) for more chat.  We share our lives, Lisa and I, in the way that only two strangers passing each other like ships at night can do.  We even mention the war – and not in Basil Fawlty type conversation either – we walked by the Jewish Memorial in town and that led to her remembering that her father (who was a soldier in Paris and who died when she was only 17yrs of age) and she had never really discussed this period of his life.   She is very caring and sorts me out with a downloadable navigation system ‘specially for bicycles called Komoot then organises sample routes for me for the next three days (a tad optimistically as it turns out!).
 
I see from a facebook message from Seth, that Steve is now set up with a computer and may even be able to use messenger to get hold of me!  Time will tell.
 
Supper by the light of the setting sun, some painting, some knitting: Life is good.

(Let’s see if I can do this journey better!).
Breakfast with Katja – she wakes early every morning, no matter what time she goes to bed.   I have porridge oats – and vanilla rooibos tea – Katja ALSO likes vanilla rooibos – meeting someone else who likes it is a first for me!  Interestingly, she also has little, unsealed tea bags in which to insert loose tea – then a little metal clip (like a hair clip) is used to ensure the bag doesn’t leak: ingenious. 
 
Katja has decided to escort me out of the city on HER bicycle which is fabulous news and lovely to have company – she even warns me that she’ll be slow – not slower than me, I reassure her.   I’ve already discovered the suburbs can go on, and on.
Again I’ve written a list of towns to help me on my way to Bensheim and I’ve given my telephone no. to Lisa. 
Following Katja, it was quite gratifying to note that even SHE had a problem navigating with the sat nav on her phone.  She didn’t believe it, and had to stop and ask directions a couple times from passers by.  She blamed it on the new housing estates – there does seem to be a lot of building and work being done on the infrastructure in Germany.   Even the locals can get lost (I thought – smugly). 
 
We got into the back lanes, winding between vineyards again when I cycled gaily into a large puddle – slalomed several times in the slick mud and came off.  Rowenna, the bags, me – we were all plastered in slippery clay.  I suppose it’s good for the skin.  The fall must have been quite amusing to see, but Katja, bless her, was merely concerned that I was OK.  She got off and walked her bicycle through the puddle – sensibly. 
 
(As an aside – I saw on Face-ache this morning that Kevin Presland is back from HIS bicycle trip across Europe.  They managed to average 80miles a day, including some rather hilly places – like the Pyrenees mountains.  AMAZING! think I’m way under half that…  in fact I’m not even going to work it out and I feel very tired just thinking about it).  
 
Katja has to leave me to get back in time to prepare for and see a new client at 2pm.  It’s lovely to make new friends – especially knitterly ones, and sad to move on.  But I might meet Katja and Patrick again, as they’re going to Croatia on a camping holiday at the end of June, beginning of July. 
 After Katja’s departure I head for Hossdasse station and get lost almost immediately.  I had lunch in a place that wasn’t on my list of places to pass through, but I am headed vaguely towards a place that is.
I think I’ve found Ludwigshafen  - and stop for a celebratory milkshake made with mango sorbet – mmm.  To get here, I have pushed Rowenna through a field, I was that determined not to turn around again and find the right path.
 
It’s really hot in the midday sun, but I’m hoping that the heap of sugar in the shake will get me past that mid afternoon slump. 
What makes navigation so confusing is that all the signs give the name of the area (like Parish, I guess) as well as the name of the actual village.  So I don’t get to the actual Ludwigshafen proper until later – but all the surrounding villages/suburbs say Ludwigshafen on their ‘Wilkommen’ signs!
 
When I get into the city of Ludwigshafen I go around in circles trying to get onto a flyover which leads to a bridge to take me over the Rhine for the fifth and probably the last time this trip.  I am then in Mannheim – where I phone Lisa who is expecting me later, to confirm my whereabouts.  She tries to help me with directions, but we agree that I should just head North – and if I come to some woods, then I’m headed the right way.  Later she texts me with the names of some towns I should pass through – and I was pleased to report that I have not only reached them but passed on and through. 
 
I ride through beautiful beech woods to reach Lorch, and thence to Bennsheim where Lisa told me to head for two church spires.  I can only see high rise blocks of flats so turn towards the city from a ringroad, and then Lisa is there – come to meet me on her electric bicycle.   Together, we push the bicycles up the hill to her apartment – the top flat of three in a very modern, Architect’s house. 
 
There is a sloping floor to the eaves, opposite the open plan living area.  Then off this space there is a bathroom and kitchen.  At one end of the flat (the back of the flat, there is a spacious bedroom/work-area with a balcony which overlooks the sunrise and a rural scene which could be in any countryside (no houses, but a slope with a meadow and wooded areas).  At the opposite end of the flat is another spacious dining room/library/spinning area with a balcony which overlooks the city and the sunset.  The ceilings are the green-oak work of the house, with nooks and crannies.  So much light!   So much wool/fibre/stash!
Lisa has FOUR wheels (that I could see, anyway).   I did a little spinning on a german wheel (called Katarina?), which was so smooth and easy to use, I was filled with envy.  Pointless as the maker is an elderly man with a 2 year waiting list and who has no intention of selling any wheels outside Deutschland.
Lisa also had two wee little wheels which looked a little like wee Peggys, but weren’t – they were also German.  And a fascinating wheel in a box – it folded out a bit like a charkha – only wheel size with a treadle.
 
I even managed to phone Steve using Skype tonight.  Cheap innit?

​the living room was warm, dark and womblike, so I overslept.  It was Midday before I awoke! 
 
Not going anywhere today because 1) I’d like the opportunity to get to know Katja better, 2) I overslept 3) It will be good to see some of the city in the daylight and 4: It’s raining.
 
Katja is not working either (she is a psychotherapist working with teenagers with mental health issues so has some flexibility about how she arranges her workload), so we visited the Post office and had a stroll around Neustadt an der Weinstrasse, past new and old places, and shopping centres – including the DM chain that Beate works for, and a British shop called Lavender House, specialising in Cream Teas (no, didn’t go in – wouldn’t want to be disappointed by a whipped replacement for clotted cream).  
 
We went back to Katja’s apartment – and I did a daily draw of an elephant that Katja had carved herself out of soapstone. 
Katja  has been knitting for four years but is an expert – another continental knitter.  I loved her three layer jumper – and she finished test-knitting a sock while I was staying, with a german heel.
 
Making supper was a team effort: I suggested gougere with courgettes, onions and the german sausage Katja already had.  Patrick(Katja’s partner) came home during the preparation and mucked in too.  The white sauce was a bit puddingy as I inadvertently used semolina to thicken it (translation problems!).  Wee roast potatoes were great, with raspberries and blackberries in yoghurt whisked with flax oil (healthy ay?).  I had a dark, sweet beer to accompany.
Patrick went off to watch football after supper – while Katja and I chatted and painted and knitted.  It was all very congenial.