13 November 2014 - Linz am Rhein to Cologne

Day 5 – Thursday 13 November – Linz am Rhein to Cologn

I loved the view from my window at the beautiful Hotel Burgklausse. I looked through the red geraniums that grew in the window boxes just below my windows. The tiny cobbled Burgplatz was immediately below, with the magnificent Burg Linz just across the platz. It was too large to photograph, but it was clearly the residence of the ruling Baron, around which the village was built. I was just killing time for my 8am breakfast, before loading the bike to hopefully be on the road by 9am.

I was concerned about the broken strut on the rear rack. It snapped yesterday, I am assuming when I fell clumsily when attempting the very tight, steep descent through a series of ‘S’ bends which the path took to get under the railway line. I managed to tape it tightly with my trusty electricians tape (which should always be the first thing packed for cycle touring…its amazing what it can fix as a temporary measure). I had no confidence that it would survive the first bump on the bikeway, of which there would be a thousand every day! How long would it last, I wondered.

I had decided therefore to take the right hand side of the river, the side I was now on, to the next village of Bad Honnef where there were three cycle shops. One of them was surely to have a new rack I could purchase. Without it, it would be a very difficult day. However, I wasn’t certain of the quality of the path on the right side – it was even marked on my trusty Bikeway map of the Rhine bikeway.

At 9:15am I reluctantly rolled away from the beautiful Burgklausse Hotel, took the tunnel under the railway line and found myself back at the ferry wharf, which was docked and loading cars. However, the path headed away to my right in the direction of Bad Honnef, so I took the chance and set sail. I had barely gone 500mtrs and the bitumen path became a single walking track! Making a good decision, I turned back to the ferry. Sadly, it had left for the other side, and I lost almost 30mins for it to return and then take me over.

However, I was on my way, on a decent path, and for now it was beautifully smooth, and the rack was sitting securely behind me, held only by the downward pressure of the weight of the bag, and several layers of my trusty electrical tape! My next thought was to get the ferry in about 12k that crosses to Bad Honnef. I passed Remagen, the path still beautiful which started me thinking that the rack might just last the distance after all. Within no time I was passing the Bad Honnef ferry, which closed off that option.

Amazingly, I thought I was riding cautiously, but the trip average had climbed to almost 20kph, which was basically the same as the previous two days. Whiel the path was decent, I was happy to push the bike along. I was just cautious though when bumping on to the actual roads which happens occasionally, and then back again to the bikeway. The rack held. This part of the river, there seems to be more of a continuous development of civilization and industry along both sides of the river. However, except for the major factories, it was still pleasant to the eye. The steeples of churches were frequent, even occasional fields under plough, and long sections of beautiful forest with the carpet of brown and bronze leaves.

The weather was cool, which dropped to 7C at its lowest, but the further I went the warmer it became, reaching 12C by midday with a now clear blue sky. The conditions were more than pleasant, if anything a little warm in my yellow rain jacket which I just couldn’t be bothered to take off.

At the 30k mark I was pleasantly surprised to be riding into the magnificent city of Bonn. It was barely 11:30am, so I decided to leave the bikeway which was still hugging the river, and find my way into the central marketplace (marktplatz) of Bonn. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds. It is a big, and somewhat bustling city. The cars are fats (as are the local cyclists!)  but with my Aussie head I had to think before crossing intersections because my brain had not fully grasped as natural that traffic is on the opposite side to my auto reflexes.

I found a table at a well known coffee house which had free wi-fi, and decided to load my blog from the previous day (the wi-fi at the Hotel Burgklausse refused to work for me). I must say it was very pleasant to be sitting in the sun, sipping coffee, watching the local Bonn populace all passing by. I had to remind myself that I was on the other side of the world from home, sitting lazily as a tourist in this great city.

With the blog loaded, I strolled aimlessly, found the marktplatz with its large open cobbled square, open coffee houses, the beautiful statue of Beethoven, and the magnificent Bonn Cathedral. I was so pleased to have made the decision to detour into the city. Being now completely spun around, I was disoriented and had no idea now in which direction the river Rhine was located. In my broken German, I had to ask several people before my heart was warmed by the sight of what has become something of a constant companion for me – the river Rhine.

My thoughts turned to Cologne. Again I was very pleasantly surprised to see that the small pathway signs were telling me that it was a mere 35k to Cologne. For me, that’s two hours cycling, so it would be an early afternoon for me. I thought too soon.

I had hardly cleared Bonn. The bikeway shared the local vehicle road, and just flashed by in the corner of my eye I saw the sign ‘Fahrad Shoppe’. I hit the brakes, turned back and here was this tiny bike shop, a few bikes for sale, a few bike parts, and a very friendly proprietor who greeted me at the door. Yes, he has racks, and yes they would fit my bike and fit my precious Ortlieb panniers.  The price of 29 Euro seemed a steal to me. He then said ‘for another 5Euro, I can charge you to fit the rack for you. I have children to feed, you know’ to which I replied ‘Okay, but I will have to sell my mother and my sister to pay for it’. We both laughed heartily, to which he admitted ‘but I only have one small baby’ and I said ‘well, my mother died years ago!’ I think we could have been great friends.

He fitted the rack to the bike, but the pannier bracket settings also had to be altered which he did but not without much effort. I paid him 10Euro instead for his labour. His eyes told me that he rarely meets people who are generous, and he was very grateful. I was grateful too for his kindness. We shook hands warmly as we parted company forever. Sadly, we thought we had sorted all the settings except for the two clips that actually hold the bag to the rack. One on each side couldn’t close the clasp correctly, and occasional bumps would cause it to bounce off and fall on the road. It was very annoying, but I just had to manage until I made it to Cologn.

Cologne is a major city. The Hostel was supposed to be near the marktplatz, which was about 1k in from the bikeway along the river. On the map it looked simple, but I could not translate the reality of the massive city area to the simple lines on my map. I was completely lost and had no idea of where to go. Then I saw the massive spires of the Cologne Cathedral standing out like an enormous sentinel over the city. I at least had a landmark from which then to take some bearings, and after at least an hour of lost time, I was sitting on my bike a little discouraged in the middle of a bustling crowd in the marktplatz area of Cologne when I heard from behind ‘howya goin’ mate?’ He was a young Aussie, with a German girlfriend, a wonderful young couple. On her smart phone, she located my Hostel, which was a mere 100mtrs away but around a side street, and clearly not well marked when I found it.

It’s a long story, but reception was on the 6^th floor, with an elevator seemingly too small for me bike. I knew it wouldn’t impress them to have a bike emerge from the elevator at the reception, but the look on the face of the lovely receptionist was priceless. Her mouth had dropped open, she clasped both hands to her face, and I could read her mind.  I said “I have a reservation” and she said “You cannot bring your bike in here, there is nowhere for your bike!” This was the start of a lovely friendship.

We worked it out. I didn’t like it, but I had to leave the bike in a public carpark on a lower level. However, I was in the shower when I heard a knock on the door. It was Anya, the receptionist. She didn’t seem fazed by a wet Aussie opening the door with nothing but a towel. But she was pleased with herself because she had managed to find a locked room where my bike could live safely for the night! She was actually lovely, and shared fond memories of her visit to Australia.

Cologne is beautiful. I strolled for hours despite the cold and the dark. The cobbled streets and lanes were teeming with people, it was actually hard to move freely. There were numerous street musicians, some of them excellent groups with tubas, violins and drums that filled the night air with a carnival atmosphere. I stood in awe of the great Dom, the Cologne Cathedral, the magnificence of which I don’t think I have ever see, It was simply gargantuan, too large to fully behold. The capacity of tradesmen more than a thousand years ago to build such structures is simply stunning.

Incredibly, Cologne was carpet bombed and completely destroyed in WW2, except for the Cathedral. Whether that was by carefully aimed bombs or by the invisible Divine hand we will never know, but the Cathedral stood alone surrounded by complete and utter devastation in the closing months of WW2.

Incidentally, Cologne gets its name from Colonia who was born in the early first century when what is now Cologne was just a Roman military garrison. Colonia was of noble birth, and gave the camp her name. She became the mother of Nero, the nasty Roman Emperor who in the AD60’s started the most severe campaign of terror and persecution of Christians, after he ‘fiddled while Rome burned’, blaming the burning of the city on the Christians.

I have enjoyed my visit to Cologne. I had dinner in a genuine German pub. I had hardly sat at a table when I was given the traditional small glass of beer. I used all my grace to explain that I don’t actually drink, and could I have coke. The German at the bar was so gracious, and did not appear to be offended. I enjoyed the meal, bratwurst and gravy with ‘frites’.

I will never forget my visit to Cologne. Tomorrow I move on to Dusseldorf, some 70k closer to Arnham. It will be my penultimate full day on German soil. Holland is not far away now.

From my 6^th floor tiny, Spartan (not even TV!) room at the Cologne Downtown Hostel, but with a full view of the beautiful Cologne Cathedral, I send my love