Day 1 - 9 November 2014 - Frankfurt to Mainz

Day 1 – Sunday 9 November:

It was the loveliest of sights to fly in over Frankfurt just as dawn was breaking over this part of Europe. The Pilot announced 5 degrees and fine, which made the day even better. It had been a long journey, having been in flight and transit for just on 30 hours. As we taxied to the Gate, all I could hope for now was that my bike and my panniers were also somewhere on the plane beneath me.

The flight was long, but not uncomfortable, but it was all behind me. My adrenalin was rushing now, wondering not only if my bike had arrived, but whether I can get it put together and find my way out of this massive airport. In the hour before landing I dressed in my cycling gear. I went straight through Immigration. There was no customs check at all. I was alone waiting at the oversize luggage gate. The belt kicked into life. No one can explain the feeling when you see the bike box, battered and bruised but nevertheless turning up on the belt in front of you.

The panniers were nowhere to be seen. However, I was told to check the regular luggage carousel. No sign. I felt sick. But out of the corner of my eye I caught the glimpse of the zebra coloured cheap bag that I transported them in. They were on the 1^st Class carousel! They arrived in very fine style.

The family was together! I found a quiet cornet, and over the course of an hour everything was ready. I donated the now shabby box to Frankfurt airport, sat and shouted myself a ‘kaffee’, and made my way to the front street. It was overwhelming. I knew I had to go left, but all traffic was ‘one way’ going right, the wrong way! After the mandatory official photos though, I walked the bike across all lanes, and found a busy road heading left, and down under off the airport concourse. Nervously I mounted the now loaded bike. It wobbled for ten metres while passers-by stared, and then I was away, just managing to stay ahead of the massive bus that had now loomed up behind me! I could hear the Aussie flag fluttering behind me as the bike gathered speed.

Nothing looked like the small map I had loaded from Google! At least I knew the direction of the River Main, and somewhere along this road I knew I had to turn right. Anyway, after much trial and trepidation and cycling on my instincts, I found the road after many nervous kilometers, and could tell by my shadow that at least the river should be several kilometers ahead of me.

It was Sunday morning. I could hear the bells tolling. Traffic was light. The city disappeared. There were market gardens and houses both sides of the road, and the sun shone despite the fresh temperature. It was beautiful. I just needed to see the river Main. We were here two years ago, but nothing looked familiar. Back then, we caught an airport bus to the Hotel near the River. This time, I had to do it myself.

I just followed the road for 5 kilometres until it came to an end, and then as the last of the road turned a small bend before coming to an end, I caught glimpse of the mighty River Main that begins in the mountains in far eastern Germany, and flows west through Frankfurt and joins the other mighty River, the Rhine some thirty kilometers to the west of where I am now. My heart finally relaxed. I felt like I had come home. I was now parked at the river, its massive expanse as far left and right as I could see. Two beautiful swans played on the water’s edge just in front of me saying ‘welcome back’. It had been two years since Julie and I were at this exact point, also at the beginning of another adventure.

I had to ride east for several kilometers to find the bridge that spanned the River Main, a tough climb up and over with a loaded bike, but once having crossed, a dip to the left and then I was headed west again, with some thirty kilometers to the city of Mainz, the confluence of the River Main and the great Rhine River.

The ride served up a bit of everything today. The surface of the bikeway was everything from reasonable bitumen to mud, with many parts very slippery with the thick carpet of wet autumn leaves. The track wove its way through gardens, fields just under plough or early vegetable, or small forests that were almost bare now of their autumn colours. The track was good mostly, but also ghastly, at one point it was blocked by road works, without any optional routes signposted. I found my way though through distant villages, where the largest sweet potatoes I have ever seen had just been harvested.

Closer to Mainz, the path was again blocked with barriers, the German signs clearly barring access. I noticed two cyclists on mountain bikes coming through anyway, so I thought ‘if they can, I can’. Going around the sign, I ventured through. However, up ahead the path was completely blocked by barriers and deep works on the track at the steep down a bank into the river. I could see where bikes had been pushing their luck by managing to get around by making a track around on the steep, muddy slope of the bank, but clearly not bikes loaded with 45kg! Very gingerly, and holding on by only my toes, I wheeled the heavy bike down the bank, holding it up with all strength I had, praying not to slip or fold under the sheer weight of the bike. It was muddy, slippery with wet rocks just under the mud. Having got down and along, it was a massive effort to lift and wheel the bike up the bank again. My heart returned to normal as I just managed to get back on the track, with a huge sense of relief. I didn’t want to get my flag wet!

Some scenes of autumn leaves, parks and the river were just magical. It was hard not to keep stopping to take photos. At one point I came up behind a bunch of about 100 runners who were doing some kind of charity run, in a bunch. They dominated the pathway through this magnificent vineyard. I came up behind and asked ever so nicely if I could pass. It took about 5 minutes as I made my way through a small gap that they made for me, talking to me as I passed very gingerly, trying not to bump anybody. I enjoyed their company for that 5 minutes. They too were going to Mainz.

It is a most breathtaking sight to arrive at the confluence of the two rivers, with the city outline of Mainz in the background. The river barges were passing as I arrived, their long and narrow shape just adding to the magnificence of the scene. Again I had to head north to find the massive yet beautiful bridge that spanned the Rhine, another tough ramp up but made worthwhile by the tremendous view south up the river in the direction of Switzerland.

I made it to Mainz. I had the map in my head to the Hotel Schwan, my home for the night. The body wanted to lie down, but I knew I had to keep fighting it until after dinner. The Hotel Schwan was located in the central village area of the old historic centre. The building is at least 600 years old. I think I am the only guest! I was made welcome, except my bike and my bike shoes were not – they both had to stay outside! The lady though is lovely – I think I will be the only guest for the usual sumptuous German breakfast tomorrow morning.

I showered, walked the cobbled streets, took photos but could not resist the temptation to sit down for a very late lunch of a ‘dopplecurryweiner’ with mustard, ketchup and honey! Delicious doesn’t quite describe it, after the ordeal of the past two days. ‘Kaffe’ in another shop, but knowing I could not sit for too long. My body was longing to lie down, but I was fighting it until dinner at the Hotel Schwan and the blog is done.

It has been a great journey so far. The nervousness of day 1 has now passed. The bike is rolling okay, the bags need repacking and balancing, and I just need a good night’s sleep. As the sun now sinks far into the western sky and darkness now falls upon this part of the Rhine, the bells of the great Dom in the village centre of Mainz toll magnificently as a fitting curtain to the end of this great day.

Tomorrow I head out of town to the north, across the great bridge again, and head toward the beautiful UNESCO listed ‘Romantic Rhine’. Until then, I send my love and affections to all.

Kelvin