Luxembourg likes to style itself as a cycling country these days, rather than say a tax haven. (So, the opposite of what Tory Britain is doing.) Today I got a glimpse of that, with a mixture of mostly lovely cycling which took me down most of the country to the capital, via the very Central Point.
I climbed south out of scruffy Wiltz on steep misty streets, expecting drizzle which never came. (The weather forecast was dire: heavy rain all day and thunderstorms.) Up top I took a lovely back lane across vast fields of brown and green. The only sound was birdsong and the panting of the wind turbines, their tops lost in the clouds.
A fabulous long freewheel took me down through woods to the next valley, my destination one of Luxembourg’s most scenic little villages: Esch-sur-Sûre, so good they named it twice. Grandly turreted and towered, it sits on a rocky promontory on a dramatic bend in the river: a tourist honeypot, but honeypot still with the lid on this early in the morning, around half eight.
The only people around were some officials setting up a bike event for later and a couple of early birds in the cafe where I had a formule coffee and sandwich overlooking the river.
This is the Ardennes, all lush forests and steep-sided little valleys, and getting up and out of Esch was a long but scenic haul, up 300m on 3km of lane. At least I knew that, once up, it was pretty much downhill all the way for the rest of the day.
I ripped down a long, fast freewheel on a main road of Sunday-light traffic to Ettelbruck, not having to pedal or brake for maybe six or seven k.
At Ettelbruck I joined the PC (‘Piste Cyclable’, which my mum would think is a cycle path safe enough to tackle after two glasses of wine) 15, one of those bike routes Luxembourg is proud of. It’s pretty good, too. It did a few Sustransy things in the suburbs, doing three-sides-of-a-square stuff on back roads through industrial estates.
But once out the town the PC15 turned into a splendid wide, car-free, flat, smooth tarmac path. I should have an acronym for this, but WCFSTP sounds too much like the governing body for something.
Anyway, it WCFSTPed its way through rolling green countryside, mostly following the riverside or the railway line, if not always clear which. There were lots of other riders out this Bank Holiday weekend.
(It very often seems to be Bank Holiday weekend when I’m cycling in Europe, unexpectedly – something like Whitsun or National Day – which can be annoying when you’re looking for a food or beer shop.)
My End to Ends of the other two Benelux countries both included visits to the Highest Point and Central Point. So, having picked up Luxembourg’s summit shortly after the start yesterday, I had to do a short detour at Pettingen to stand at the country’s Central Point.
The marker and information board are in a nature reserve wood, on a forest track a short distance from a rural lane, and I had it to myself just as the sun came out. For a few minutes the entire country revolved around me.
I got back to the WCFSTP comfort of PC15, but soon encountered a problem. Inondation. Half a year of constant rain has affected central Europe just as much as Britain, and many of the fields were flooded. As were several stretches of PC15, disappearing under standing water as it tried to cross farmland or follow a riverside.
I found a way round some, but after a while got fed up of to-ing and fro-ing and backtracking and roundabouting, and just followed the N7 main road into Luxembourg City, seeing as traffic was scant.
I stopped for a sandwich and beer at a petrol station that had outside tables and enjoyed a burst of sunshine. The weather forecast had got it completely wrong.
A riverside lane into Luxembourg centre proved picturesquely cobbled and lined by old town houses, and I was delighted to stumble upon something I’d heard about: Paffendal outdoor lift, which whisks pedestrians and cyclists up from the riverside to the Haute Ville, the pedestrianised centre 60m up on the clifftop.
All free, of course, like all public transport in Luxembourg, and a fun experience, designed to let you enjoy the view down over the river from glass cubicles.
I stopped for a beer at a pavement cafe in the bustling Place des Armes and enjoyed a burst of sunshine. Then suddenly it thundered, lightninged, and pelted down with rain. The weather forecast had at last got it right.
It drizzled for pretty much the rest of the day, so I checked into my hostel a short descent away by the river, and enjoyed a relaxed evening in their restaurant.
Ah, different from the packaged, microwaved stuff of YHA eateries at home: the Menu du Jour was fresh salad, fresh vegetable soup and bouillon, fresh bread rolls, turkey escalope with roast vegetables and pasta in sauce, and some sort of dessert which may have contained banana, jam, dough or something else, but tasted fine. All for €13.
I washed it down with some Bordeaux – the wine list wasn’t bad either – and enjoyed the view of the Haute Ville from the hostel restaurant window. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed good stays at Liverpool and York and Bristol hostels, but there was something a bit classier about this.
Miles today: 45
Miles since Aldi: 76