My tent may weigh less than a can of beer, but it coped very well with the overnight deluge. I was dry and snug when I woke at four, and somehow managed to pack up all my bags – apart from the tent itself – from within the tiny confines of my OEX Bobcat Ultralite. (It was £150 from Go Outdoors, and a bargain, I reckon.) I’ve been in bigger and quieter MRI scanners, but my Bobcat is just about large enough for me and my luggage in the porch.
I waited for first light in the shower block, charging my phone and booking my accomm for a couple of days ahead. At seven, to my delight, the bakery opposite opened. I could snaffle a coffee and oven-fresh, delicious poppy-seed pastry for breakfast.
The last 100m of climb for the whole trip got me to a summit rest hut with fine views down both sides of the divide. A little picnic area provided signed stargazing opportunities for night visitors. A kind of lensless telescope lined up two discs to let you locate Polaris. Not on this grey cloudy morning, obviously.
Then it was a glorious kilometre downhill to the next village, followed by a day of almost imperceptible descent on more very good cycle paths alongside rivers through villages, small towns and farms.
I remember Karlstadt, but only for the huge sign saying KARLSTADT made out of people-sized letters that so many places put up nowadays with a canny eye on free Instagram PR. I look forward to when they do similar for Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogoch. Other than the only thing I recall from Karlstadt is a fish van that supplied my brunch.
After Fulda’s modest old town I was back following the D9 route, and had the frisson of trusting the signs without any clue from my phone where I was – I’d forgotten to load the map for this area. It was all excellent, mostly flat alongside a river, and with nice sweepy views of villages. Many of the paths were shiny-black with settled drizzle, and strewn with autumn leaves glowing richly in the sunshine. Except when I tried to photograph them, when they went dull and brown.
At one point I came across a large thatched wooden restaurant-like building that was left open as an honesty refreshment stop for cyclists and walkers. A fridge was stacked with beers and soft drinks and a box invited your coins in return. Of course I stopped, out of public spirit. I believe in supporting local initiatives like this.
Rain showers came and went as I trugged along farmy flats crossed by main-road viaducts and sided by low slopes. I sat out a couple under bridges or in refuges. I picked up provisions for tonight at a Norma and followed suburban paths into Bad Hersfeld.
My campsite tonight was at a Canoe Club which, like many in Germany, provide tent space and clubhouse facilities to walkers and cyclists. It’s set up informally, by email or phone, rather than online. Around four, a friendly canoe club chap turned up to give me keys and show me round. For a bargain €12 I got a good pitch, a covered seating area, and use of the clubhouse’s kitchen, common room, shower block and – delightfully – bargain beer cupboard.
I thought I had the place to myself for a couple of hours, but later on, as I was having my tea, a Dutch cyclist turned up. He proved to be a splendid chap with the right sort of world-view – ie one similar to mine – and we swopped stories and jokes over a beer which could easily have stretched to several more. Sadly, sanity prevailed. Though we finished the evening in style: his essential luxury packing item is coffee-making kit, and he kindly made us both a brew.
Miles today: 50
Miles from Füssen: 347