Freemasons

On the train back, there were 5 other HOGs, all returning from the rally as well. I've said before that there's a freemasonry to bikers, and it is seldom more evident than on the Eurotunnel. You have 30 minutes of standing around next to your bike, so of course you get chatting. About bikes, destinations, roads, laws, rallies, whatever. And when you get off, especially on the UK side, you tend to wave each other off and look for each other and ride as a group, making space for each other. It's a very warm and friendly feeling, to know that other people are looking out for you on the road, given how vulnerable bikers really are. 

Jiggity-jog

On Sunday morning, I got up early and got going, largely because I've known it take 4 hours to get from Bruges to Calais, regardless of what Google tells me. I was also doing this the old-fashioned way: map books and road signs, because I do nat have, nor do I want, a satnav. I have enough problems without adding more technology with associated chargers and cables to my baggage. 

Also, I wanted some pretties, without caning it all the way up the autobahn. 

I'd booked my train back for 2050, and I left Assmanshausen at 0900, so I reckoned I had plenty time for what Google insisted was a 6.5 hour journey. 

I took almost the route I'd planned (she says smugly. Road signs have their uses. I only looked at the map once, when I followed a sign from Koblenz towards Koln and realised I wasn't the road I'd expected. But since the road I was on was even quieter and prettier and twistier than the one I'd planned, I wasn't complaining for as long as it went in the right general direction. 

So of course, as I'd allowed plenty time, the sun shone all day and the traffic decided travel wasn't in its plans, and I got to the Calais terminal at 1530. 

The nice gent at the ticket office smiled at me when I said I'd booked but was a bit early. He offered me a place on the 1750, for a princely €3, or a free place on the 1820. I paid the fee (I can live with that fee). 

Wine Country

The Rhine Valley, or the section of it containing Rudesheim, is Riesling country. This may explain Rudesheim's myriad bars, come to think of it. 

When I was in Paris, I saw a wine bottle in the Baccarat museum, called Johannisberg. I, being a Jozi girl, took a picture of it despite the spelling. Near Rudesheim, I saw a kloster and vineyard called Johannisberg, which is probably the proper explanation for the 1878 wine bottle. However, still being a Jozi girl, I took a picture. 

Everything you see is a music box

Rudesheim

Rudesheim

The town itself is very cute. It has a mechanical music museum, opposite a shop in which everything is a music box of some description, including things you wouldn't suspect could be a music box. 

There is a tourist train to take people around. Its engine is called Liesel. It reminded me strongly of Granny Smith of the Apple Express in SA, but smaller and much cuter. 

bikes and beers

Magic Ride

We made the hotel in Assmanshausen, which is 5km from Rudesheim proper, and found that it too was overrun with bikers. We like taking over sleepy little towns and getting to park wherever we want, and kick all the cars onto major diversions. It's FUN. 

As with most rallies, the town got into it, with Harley and Biker specials all over the shop and some very nice non-alcoholic fruit beers. I am a biker, I need to ride sober, I like the concept of non-alcoholic beer, which isn't sickly sweet. I recommend Hollunder, which is Elderberry. 

The B42s

From Koblenz, the idea was to head up the Rhine on the eastern bank, which put us on the right side for Rudesheim, on the B42, which meanders nicely alongside the river, albeit faster than the barges (including one from Croatia, which was making good use of the Danube-Main-Rhine canal. That threw me until I could Google it). However, silly satnav was still a little geographically confused and took us over the Rhine 3 times, before winding through a bunch of suburbs and cul-de-sacs in general refusal to ask directions. 

At a roundabout I saw a sign - Rudesheim, 98km, Rechts. I took it. Lynn, following the satnav, went Links. I stopped, turned around and went back for her (what did we do before bike-to-bike comms?)

We went back to the rounadbout and I again followed the roadsign. Lynn went around a couple more times before following me. I think the satnav was confused about which way roundabouts in Europe flow, myself. 

Schlosse, schlosse everywhere

Uberwald

Germany, and Belgium through the Ardennes, is very pretty and picturesque. You can tell, I think, a lot about the national character of a country by what it dots around its landscape and in its little villages. In Germany and Austria, every hamlet has its bakerei, which not only explains the national emphasis on bread, but also kuche. In England, it's pubs. 

Germany also likes to litter schlosse around its countryside the way most countries do with derelict lager cans: on mountains, in rivers, in forests... up hill and down dale. 

And just when the Discworldly quaintness was getting too much, we crossed over the River Ahr near Koblenz, and I nearly lost the bike I was laughing so much. Sieze the day by its throat indeed. 

Be Welcome & Beware

Europe is a lot bike-friendlier than the UK, or possibly I just think that because I live here. But in Germany there are many places with little signs outside welcoming bikers, including one very cool looking roadside bar near the Nurburgring. Anywhere else, and I'd have stopped for pics, but around the Nurburgring? Not risking it. 

To temper this open-arms attitude, there are also frequent signs warning bikes to beware. Generally these take the form of a squiggly road and a graphic depiction of a biker coming a cropper. 

Language Warning

The trouble with Europe is that you arrive in France, and all the road signs are in French. Then jsut as you get used to that, you enter Belgium, and all the signs alternate between Flemish and French. Which becomes problematic when it comes to mapping, because you have to know that Luik is Flemish for Liege, or else you get lost and miss the turn-off and wind up heading into Brussels itself, which is not what you wanted to do. 

Having your friend with the satnav leading and talking to you in English also does not help, because the satnav isn't used to EU speed limits yet and is about 200 yards (not used to metric yet either) behind the times and having English in your ear is not assisting your nascent language skills either. Especially when you can see the turn off, but your friend is already heading off in the wrong lane, and you, being a good friend, can't just abandon her to her fate. 

The next adventure

Life Before Coffee

For this trip, I had to keep my days off work to a minimum, so I worked a full day before I left, and as usual, had booked an early train to Calais (you lose an hour, so it helps to leave early). It's well known that I am not most accurately described as alive before I've had my coffee in the morning. However, there is one thing that works as well as caffeine for me, and that's sunshine on chrome. Despite to excitement that disturbed my sleep, I rolled out of bed and out of the door with minimal stumbling into the furniture. 

I yawned, blinked a few times, yawned some more and got down to Folkestone on a bubble of adrenalin, having allowed far more time than necessary for traffic. Note to self - there is no traffic at 4am, even in London. So I had time for coffee and breakfast at the terminal, after which I felt more human, but still overly excitable.