A short day on this autumnal equinox, with small achievement of both distance and itinerary: I changed barely more than one letter as I dawdled up the coast from Büsum to Husum.
The brevity of the ride was partly determined by accommodation: Husum has a super little hostel, cosy and reasonably-priced, which I wanted to stay at. (It was half the price of Büsum’s official Jugendherberge – a cost I avoided last night by some breezy camping.)
Today’s limited distance was welcome, though, because it was very windy today, most of it right into my face. I was off nice and early from Büsum and was just about the only person out riding the flat, borderline bleak coastal paths.
At one point I passed a sign for FKK bathing – a nudist beach, in other words. Unsurprisingly on this chilly day, it was deserted. I wasn’t about to change that.
I crossed a starkly impressive causeway and stopped off for a snack at a lovely little nature reserve, all wooden huts, lively explanatory panels and inviting picnic tables.
It wasn’t open yet – the Sunday families wouldn’t be along till later – but I enjoyed a snack and perused the scatological information boards that must make kids giggle. (One referred to a children’s story favourite, the mole on a peevish quest to find out who had pooed on his head. Very German.)
Eventually I peeled off the coast and headed inland to Husum on back lanes and main-road bike paths. All very quiet and virtually car-free.
There were some puzzling roadworks that I navigated through with the innocent assurance of a cyclist: there’s probably a way through for two wheels, whatever the signs imply. This time I was proved right.
Oh: not even noon, and I was at Husum already. It seems the wind had been more tail- than the expected head-. I caught up on the breakfast I hadn’t yet had with a pain au choc and machine coffee from a petrol station. Now it was noon, ie lunchtime, so I enjoyed a Backfisch-Brötchen (fried fish sandwich) from a van in the tourist-centre harbourside.
Hmm. Husum was perfectly pleasant, but after half an hour of wandering round the harbour, quaint-ish cobbled streets, ‘castle’ (more of a hall) and market square, I felt I’d done it rather. And the hostel didn’t open till four.
Never a problem in Germany, though, because Germany has cafes. So I nursed a beer in the castle cafe for a couple hours. Then I nursed another beer in the hostel’s back yard for an hour, sheltering from the rain and watching red squirrels hoard nuts for the coming winter. There were two or three going about their business, just feet away from me. I like reds and I could enjoy them all day. And I don’t mean wine.
As I say, the hostel was super. Nice people, nice atmosphere, comfy beds, quiet and cosy. Perhaps my favourite of the trip. Plus there was a petrol station round the corner for Sunday-evening provisions, such as cans of things. And I do mean beer.
Miles today: 36
Miles from Füssen: 801