Neil says... 'Don't buy £9.99 rubber suits from B&Q'

Tuesday and Wednesday were the less memorable days of the trip though only in that we have been spoilt by the rest. And as I write this on arrival in Koblenz on Thursday afternoon, other than relying on photographic evidence to help relate our tale, the mind has got a bit foggy recalling anything more than a few hours past largely thanks to over indulgence in Herr Gobblesteiner's golden thirst quencher each evening and at other times in between. There is never a day on this trip, however, which is not worthy of description so I shall do my best.


Lindau to Colmar was a frustrating kind of journey... we left in heavy, slow traffic along the road which didn't hug the shoreline quite as we expected it might. Despite some very pleasant scenery and some good bendy roads at times, the rain which arrived after a strange lunch of chopped up frankfurter and chips put a damper on proceedings though the sight of Neil 'Albert' Heldreich trying to put his green rubber kagool on in a rush so that we could be back on the mountain road before the bus we'd spent god knows how long trying to overtake came passed us singly justified the downpour. I have to report that sadly, Neil's fine two piece foul weather suit is no more. The trousers split as we left Lake Garda on Sunday and the aforementioned kagool didn't last beyond the Wednesday morning when both arms 'fell' off. Colmar is a quiet French town boasting some very quaint and obviously ancient timber framed buildings, oh and a big cathedral and is known also for being the home of Frederic Bartholdi who designed the Statue of Liberty. The most surreal moment of the trip occurred later in the evening when the Mercure hotel bar which is essentially in the reception of the hotel was showing on the lobby tv what can only described as, well, porn. We were, of course, shocked at this and went straight to our rooms... after the bar shut a few hours later.


The ride from Colmar back into Germany to Trier, which in 1818 was the birthplace of Karl Marx of all people, was notable for two reasons... we scored our first McDonalds of the trip to date and undertook more U turns than Ed Miliband on one of his more uncertain days. That probably puts the journey into context which was also disappointing in that, on paper, this should have been one of the better days as we traversed the Alsace hills and the forested slopes of the Mosel valley. But as with football, bike trips aren't ridden on paper and miles of bland plains meant that this is unlikely to be one for the memorybank. However, reminiscent of the tale of the hare and the five tortoises, Tony was last to the hotel in Trier as he spent an age at the wrong 'Deutscher Hof' wondering why we didn't have a reservation there and this provided much amusement as we spent the evening enduring probably the worst Indian meal any of us can ever remember.