A change of pace today, as I switched from direct, roadside commuter paths to a leisure route, the LF3. The change being from a slow pace to an even slower one.
The first half of the day was on one of the most famous fast-commuting bike paths in the country, though: the F325 from Nijmegen to Arnhem. F routes (F for ‘fiets’, ‘bike’) are bike parallels to motorways, sharing their numbers, and their concept of providing non-stop travel: the F235 provides through priority at all junctions. No traffic signals, no give ways.
Well, almost. That’s how the F325 starts, with a fantastic initial stretch on the bridge over the Maas: wide and smooth, and accessed from the riverbank level in Nijmegen centre by ingenious bike lifts. When you place your front wheel in the place where normally there’s a chute to push the bike up, a belt automatically moves up the slope, helpfully moving your bike up at walking pace. And clearly people walk briskly here.
But once over the other side, I got lost in the temporary path diversions for roadworks on the north bank. where Nijmegen is gaining a lot of new ground. In most countries it would be obvious you’d gone wrong because you’d find yourself on a rubbish or non-existent path, but I was still on a network of smooth wide double-width roadside cycleways. Which could be anywhere.
Fortunately a local young woman on a bike gave me directions to rejoin the F325. In common with her countryfolk she was very tall – the Dutch are the tallest people in the world – so could probably see further than me. I’m only six foot after all.
Back on the F325 (and having negotiated one small stretch through a village that still hasn’t been F-ified) I could whizz non-stop the eight or so miles to Arnhem, unhindered by junctions.
Except I did keep stopping of course, partly to shake my head at the impossibility of this ever appearing in Britain, and mostly to take pictures of fellow riders – half of them evidently mature couples on upright town bikes, half of them road cyclist gangs zooming along the luscious pink tarmac.
The F325 arrives in Arnhem at a grand cycles-only roundabout with a view of the cathedral. I breakfasted in the Spar cafe facing it in the market square before that change of pace: from now to Zwolle I’d be on the LF3 (LF for ‘leisure fietsroute’) for a couple of days.
LFs are long-distance ways meant for cycle touring, and typically involve a variety of quiet roads and lanes, minor bike paths, and a few surfaced offroad bits. The routes are signed ‘a’ one way, ‘b’ the other, so you always know which way you’re going. Many’s the time I’ve lost a Sustrans path in a British town centre, picked it up again, followed the signs, only to come back to where I got lost.
And this stretch of the LF3 runs alongside the IJssel mostly on floodbank roads that follow the curves of the water. All gentle, relaxing stuff, with views of lakes, marinas and (very modest) hills, going through the odd village or small town. I have 24 gears on my folder, and I’ve only used about two of them since Maastricht.
So it was all leisurely stuff this grey, cool afternoon, as I wound my way alongside the river. I’d fixed myself up with a cheap hotel room in Bronkhorst, a village of 150 people, which for curious historical reasons is a city.
The Netherlands is even better at random tiny places having city status than Britain. St David’s is our tiniest, at 1,500 inhabitants: Sint Anna Ter Muiden, in the west of the Netherlands, is theirs with just 50.
And Bronkhorst proved a real find, all charming old brick buildings and cobbled lanes, a historic mill, and two good restaurants. My hotel was one; to get to the other (whose menu I favoured) I only had to cross the road. Lucky I didn’t have to walk to other side of the city. That would have been almost a hundred yards.
Miles today: 38
Miles since Drielandenpunt: 157