Did we mention that I've been shaking every night since December when I pump up my sleeping pad? Werner's mat has an integrated pump. I have to press the air into my mat with a pump bag. It's quick and easy. Only the almost new pump bag failed. The valve insert was not glued properly. The outdoor outfitter wanted to send us a replacement. But only to one address in Germany! What a theater. Shortly before we left, I had the presence of mind to pack an ancient pump bag as a backup. We covered the leaky seams with duct tape in Mexico. I use it very slowly and carefully to get air into the mat. Nevertheless, the question is always: Is it going well? Or will the old part tear?
In the meantime, we've been scouring outdoor stores since Greece without success. It is clear to us that we may be able to get a suitable pump bag in Austria, but certainly in Germany. That's why this damned thing determines our decision to cross the Alps. We take the shortest route to our home country: the Alpe-Adria Trail. For us, Adria-Alpe Trail. We will swim, or rather cycle, against the current.
The stage through Slovenia was 32 km short. Our wish to spend the night here came true. In no time we are at the border with Italy. To Trieste, to the Adriatic, it's almost all downhill. Almost 500 meters of altitude are gone. We have to get them back up, and much more. But first let’s take a look at the medieval old town. Werner finds a barber. I wait outside and watch the hustle and bustle. Businessmen in classy suits jump out of classy cars. Women in colorful, airy summer dresses stroll past. Old people with canes and walkers make their way along the narrow sidewalk. And I'm sitting next to our bikes with a wrinkled blouse, worn pants and sweaty hair. Nobody looks at me. Everyone is busy with themselves. German cyclists speak to us in front of a large church. At first they don't understand that we want to cross the Alps with our heavily loaded bikes. But when they hear our itinerary so far, they trust us. They had brought their bikes over the Alps in a motorhome.
That evening we land at a huge campsite in Sistiana, a few km behind Trieste. We are supposed to set up our tent and pay before we leave. 36 € per day. A couple from Greifswald parked their motorhome next to us. You pay the same price. As on the coast in Croatia, there are no cheap pitches for tents. Uwe from Bavaria is also camping in his car next to us. He grew up in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, not far from our homeland. He is now active in the mountain rescue service and feels like a real Bavarian. We eat together and have a lot to tell each other. In the morning we drive to reception. "What, who let you onto the pitch without paying?" A new employee who gets into trouble. Because we didn't just disappear, we were only charged €25. We say goodbye to the Adriatic and head north. When will we see the sea again? At home. On the Baltic Sea. There are still a good 2000 km between them. And of course the Alps. We can hardly wait to spot the first snow-covered giants. Will we be able to climb the extremely steep climb to the Tauern Tunnel using muscle power? Who knows. We don't have to climb any significant inclines until Udine. At Gemona we reach the well-signposted Alpe-Adria Trail. Many cyclists come towards us. Some with minimal luggage, less than 100 km per day, feel underchallenged. There are also many e-bikers and Pedelec riders who rush from hotel to hotel.
Suddenly the mountains are there. Rugged rocks, partly covered in snow, raging mountain streams. Just fantastic. Our respect for the Alps grows hour by hour. Behind Carnia we cycle on an old railway line. No cars, hardly any wind, pleasant temperature, moderate incline. Old train stations have been converted into cafés. Always tunnels and bridges. The views are breathtaking, as are the prices for hotel rooms. There are no official campsites. Finding a wild campsite in the mountains is not easy. But shortly before Tarvisio we find what we are looking for. However, the A23 autostrada runs high above us. Instead we wash ourselves in the mountain stream and the view makes up for the noise. I walk into town in the evening. What's going on here? Tarvisio is decorated. Women attach bows and flowers to every fence. Giro d'Italia is the reason. In a few days an extremely steep mountain stage will take place here. When I walk back to the tent, the starting gate is already there. We sleep well under the autostrada. When there are no cars driving, we can hear the rushing mountain stream. The next morning we roll through the starting gate for the mountain stage to Monte Lussari. The whole place is in Giro d'Italia fever. We enjoy the last Italian espresso at the bakery. We drive to the border a little wistfully. Will the Austrians also be as friendly, interested and helpful? We continue on side roads and through the forest. Some cyclists come through a tunnel that is closed to bicycles. You risk a hefty fine. The signage is confusing. Oncoming cyclists describe a road to us to avoid the tunnel and a steep section through the forest. However, we now have to lift our bikes over a barrier. There are a lot of cyclists on the road and we help each other. And then we roll over the border: finally in Austria, where German is spoken. Very pleasant, we admit that.
We'll soon be in Villach and looking for an outdoor shop again. Two young men hear our conversation and, without being asked, explain the way there. How relieved we are, the Austrians are also open-minded and friendly. The business is easy to find, but it's a lot of money. Mats are in stock, but no pump bags. Frustrated, we cycle back and consider whether we should stay here at the campsite. It is still early. Thunderstorms are forecast. Nevertheless, we pedal. It will now take two days with moderate inclines through the Drau and Möll valleys. We won't get far. The weather report is right. A few km behind Villach the sky is almost black. Wind comes up. Turn around? It's out of the question. In the next village there is an inn with room rentals according to Google Maps. I'm calling. They haven't rented for a long time, but there is a guesthouse a few km further, in Kellerberg. We crank as hard as we can. Rolling thunder and lightning on the mountain. Will we get to Kellerberg dry? We don't have to. There is a bridge over the Drau near Gummern. Next to it is a rest area with a bench and table and a water point. You can escape under the bridge when it rains. We are just about to put our tent on the rest area when the first drops fall. Werner can't stand upright under the bridge, but the tent fits there. In no time we remove a lot of rubbish and our portable home is left dry. The meadow next to the rest area quickly becomes a small lake. We would have drowned there immediately, it was pouring like that. We sit sheltered on our chairs and listen to the rain. After an hour the sun shines. Glittering drops of water hang on the blades of grass. Mountains emerge from the haze, birds continue their concert. Is it a good place? Some people would answer the question in the negative. People who don't own a home have definitely spent the night here. And we, do we have a home at the moment? We always feel at home wherever our tent is. And under this bridge is the best campsite in the world for us at this moment.
The next day we cycled just over 40 km to Spittal in changeable weather. There is a nice campsite right on the river. The operator has a heart for travelers with a tent. There is a table and chairs under one roof. We are happy about the dry place and are just eating when Nicole from Cologne emerges from the fog. She pushes her bike across the tent meadow and sits down next to us. Then let's have dinner together. After a short bike ride on the Moselle, she immediately takes on the Alps. All attention. Today she rolled down the serpentines that haunt our minds with their steep stages. A few days ago she started in Salzburg. Your car is parked there at a campsite. Since we want to stay two nights in Salzburg, we are happy about the campsite recommendation. We have breakfast together the next morning and Nicole continues rolling downhill towards the Adriatic. And we have a few short, very steep sections up to Obervellach. Pushing the heavy bikes steeply upwards is more strenuous than cycling. But anything that is too steep is too steep. The views are incredible. It goes through forests, nice villages, over gurgling rivers, past flowering meadows and not forgetting the rugged rocks. From Möllbrücke we are on the move in the Mölltal. The campsite in Obervellach is located directly on the river. We crawl into our tent early, but we can't sleep at first. If we don't make the climb to the Tauernbahn tomorrow, who will take us up the mountain? Is there a shuttle service for cyclists? We decide to dare to climb. If it is too steep, the tourist information office will definitely be able to help us. Partly 10 to 16% gradients over 8.65 km (according to komoot) to the train station are of course a tough number. I fall asleep thinking that we are well trained after the mountainous Balkan countries and everything has worked out so far...
We set off at 9 a.m. A few meters flat along the river, over the Möll Bridge, then it is mercilessly steep. After a km we stop in a driveway. Hanging over the handlebars, panting, drinking hastily, waiting until we can breathe calmly. If it continues like this it won't make any sense, Werner is sure. But give up here yet? The entrance is almost flat, so we can get rolling easily. Another km at a snail's pace and I scream with the last of my strength that I have to get off the bike. In fact, I think Werner will run me over if I brake abruptly. But he also crawls like a snail and wouldn't have stayed in the saddle a meter longer. Two racing cyclists sneak past us as we hang exhausted over the handlebars. They raise their fingers for us and nod approvingly. Or rather compassionate? Doesn't matter. Luckily there are hardly any cars. We first have to roll to the other side of the street, then swerve to the right into our lane. This is the only way we can get going again on this steep slope. We have never cycled uphill so slowly before. We snake up the mountain in serpentine lines, sometimes at less than 4 km/h. Absolutely borderline. But we always manage about a km. Werner calls behind me when we have covered 100 m. We have to give ourselves courage somehow. Suddenly at least 10 cyclists come towards us. They whistle down the mountain at lightning speed and overtake each other with shouts of joy. All right, the Tauernbahn is coming every hour. At some point we stop at a bus stop and collapse onto the bench. Oh cheek, our legs feel like pudding. It feels like we sit here for half an hour, eating bars and marveling at the snow-capped mountains. We still have to make it about two km to the highest point. Now it's all uphill in serpentines. The slope looks enormous from below. But it's not quite as steep anymore. Werner calls behind me at shorter intervals and we even manage 1.4 km. Cyclists are coming toward us again, so the train was there. Get on your bikes again. One last curve, it becomes flatter. What kind of sign is there? “HOHE TAUERN national park community of MALLNITZ”. It is clearly the highest point at 1180 m. We jump around like children, throw our arms up, give each other high fives. It took us 2 hours 30 minutes to cover almost 8 km. We climbed 520 meters in altitude. And we thought 38 km and 970 meters of altitude were difficult, like in Baja California. There is no comparison to this exertion today. We're totally exhausted. The last km to the train station is slightly downhill. Exhausted, we sit down in the café and wait for the Tauernbahn. More and more cars and motorcycles are coming. The fact that we are here with muscle power initially sounds unbelievable to drivers. But they can't find a motor on our bikes. And as worn out as we look...
The train takes us through the snowy mountain range to Böckstein in 11 minutes. What a feeling rolling downhill. Oh, a small supermarket. We are so hungry and eat liver loaf rolls, bananas and chocolate. We're still far from full. We roll to Bad Gastein, move into a room in the youth hostel for two nights and fall exhausted into bed. We continue to eat at the bakery. Nevertheless, we go to sleep hungry at night. We wake up well rested, have a hearty breakfast and take the cable car up to the Stubnerkogel at 2246 m. Insane views! We hike through snow and over a 140 m long suspension bridge. Just sit on a bench and enjoy the mountain panorama and our cycling-free day. The next morning we cycle through the Gastein Valley. Good bike path, hardly any gradients, views of the mountains. It can go on like this for weeks. But it's only 100 km to Salzburg. As soon as we reach the Salzach it's over. Tunnels, steep climbs and descents. We ring the bell before every bend to avoid being run over by oncoming cyclists. Houses left and right. In front of it there are signs asking cyclists to be considerate of children playing. This route is simply dangerous, for residents and cyclists alike. After Schwarzach it goes steeply downhill on broken asphalt. Everyone who comes towards us pushes their bike. There is no battery to help overcome the incline. Fortunately, the cycle path becomes clearer behind Schwarzach. So what is that? Rolling thunder and lightning. And not a hidden campsite in sight. But suddenly there is a signpost: campsite 2 km. Before the short thunderstorm starts, our tent is set up. Even on a tent meadow with a picnic table and a cozy hut. How lucky we are today. We also get nice neighbors. A family from Bavaria cycles south. They set up a teepee. The four children shake their sleeping bags, inflate the mats, and help their parents cook. Finally they storm the playground. Later we sit comfortably together in the hut. "Where have you camped the last few days? There aren't many campsites and hotels are far too expensive for us." the father asks us, a little worried. We can calm him down and reveal our secret places. You can definitely put the tipi next to the bridge in Gummern and at Tarvisio under the Autostrada. The children will be amazed by the rushing stream.
In the morning the weather is good again. The route goes flat along the Salzach to Bischofshofen. But there are still a few meters of altitude. Sweaty, we stop at a restaurant. Unfortunately it's a day off. We drink our warm water and relax in the shade. Now we go through the impressive Salzachklamm. Rocks rise vertically to the left and right. Now over the small Lueg pass at 552 m and we roll to Golling, where cold drinks are finally available at a gas station. Salzburg is within reach. The last km we wind through the forest and from Hallein back directly to the Salzach. The Alps are history. We can only see the snow-covered giants from afar. In the evening we set up our tent at the Schloss Aigen campsite in Salzburg, where Nicole's car is parked. She's coming back tomorrow with the bike shuttle. Good timing, right? Martin from Austria is standing next to us with his motorhome. His Pedelec is parked next to our bikes on the fence. He quickly puts his bike next to his car so that we can no longer see it. "You came across the Alps with muscle power and a lot of luggage. My Pedelec doesn't fit next to your touring bikes. That's embarrassing for me." We laugh about it together. Martin is 65, lives on a mountain and has just bought a great Pedelec to make his journey home easier. We don't find that embarrassing at all. As long as we manage, we cycle without a motor. The last few days have been extremely stressful for us. With a motor we wouldn't have had to struggle so much on the climbs, but we would have had to find a power socket every day. And of course we are a little bit proud that we managed to cross the Alps using only muscle power. With our packed Stahlross touring bikes, we now belong to a dying species. Nicole too. It's nice to see you again tomorrow.
Even in Salzburg we can't find a pump bag for my mat. We call a large outdoor outfitter in Munich. There are few pump bags in stock at the moment, but they can't (or don't want to) reserve one for us for a few days. All we can do is order online to the branch in Munich to be on the safe side. Holy bureaucrat! We don't get annoyed for long, but instead we go shopping with Nicole in the evening so that we can cook together. In the late afternoon Nicole's tent is on the meadow. We eat white sausages with pretzels and salad together. Martin, our neighbor with the Pedelec, joins us. Until the sun disappears behind the mountain, we sit together and share our stories. Nicole is enthusiastic about cycling and will soon be back in the saddle. Martin is happy that he can now climb the mountains effortlessly. And we are skeptical about what awaits us in our home country of Germany. A lot has changed in the months we've been away. Many things became more expensive and we often heard that the mood was not good. What awaits us tomorrow when we arrive in Bavaria?
To our surprise, the people of Upper Bavaria welcomed us very friendly. There are conversations over the garden fence or with other cyclists. And the question again and again: "Where are you from? You look like you've been on the road for a while." Admittedly. We look a bit ragged now. My hair is shaggy from sun and salt water, Werner's beard is too long, my clothes are faded and full of holes. The wheel bags patched and faded. Somehow we have acquired quite a travel patina. The first evening in Bavaria we end up in a forest. There are only glamping sites and not campsites. In Rosenheim we actually meet Martin again, our friendly neighbor from the campsite in Salzburg. There is a nice campsite with a swimming lake outside Munich. We stay two nights because the pump bag hasn't arrived yet. We can set up our tent in the middle of Munich with nice young people via 1nite-tent. The two are also touring cyclists and just came from Kazakhstan. What a beautiful evening. The next morning we cycle to the outdoor outfitter. And unbelievably, the pump bag is here. By the way, I can also fill Werner's mat with air in no time. In the evening I feel like a world champion at pumping up mats. What a relief!
We curve north through pretty places. On the Danube we are treated to knuckles and pretzels at a weekly market. Do we look starving now too? Definitely not, our portable kitchen is always well stocked. We cycle along Tauber and Main back to Frankfurt. Meet friends and relatives again. In Burg-Gräfenrode we arranged to meet at a scout hut through 1nite-tent. Since storms are forecast, we are allowed to sleep in the rustic hut. And that's right, Werner is almost hit by a falling branch. We zigzag along river cycle paths towards home. Are on the move along Lahn, Ohm, Wohra, Eder, Fulda and Weser. In Hameln we turn east and cycle to friends in Hildesheim. Near Braunschweig, nice 1nite-tent hosts recommend the Braunschweig-Magdeburg twin city cycle path. Good idea, then from Magdeburg we take the Elbe cycle path under the wide tires. The landscape has changed now, and so have the people. They are no longer quite as friendly and open-minded. We have arrived in the flatlands, the last notable climbs were in the Kellerwald and on the Weser. In Magdeburg we look around Hundertwasser's Green Citadel. The Elbe cycle path is really fun, we often have a tailwind. At Sandau we leave the Elbe and take the shortest route to Wittstock to my now 90-year-old father. We are so relieved to see him healthy again. As we say goodbye after three days, our friend Bärbel suddenly comes around the corner. Sure, she asked us when we were finally heading home. Without further ado, she registered us with her friends in Parchim, where we were warmly welcomed for one night. From there we drive to our friend Rüdiger in Schwerin. He had just cycled to the North Cape. Good food, travel stories - what a lovely reunion. Now only a few km separate us from Wismar, after almost 11 months and 10,000 km in the saddle. Ms. Vogt from Wismarer Blitz welcomes us at the market the next day with camera in hand. She published our travel reports every month, like during our first sabbatical in 2016/2017. Family and friends are there. Our little granddaughter Jette, not yet four years old, has not forgotten us. She jumps into our arms. Later, at the bakery, she eats cake with Grandma's bicycle helmet on her head. Sabrina from a neighboring village also came with her youngest child. We met her and her family in Mexico. The world is a village, here is the proof. Our friends Bärbel and Norbert decorated our apartment with a lot of love. Bärbel printed a sheet for each country he visited. And Norbert ceremoniously awarded us the 2023 Prosecco Globetrotter trophy we made ourselves. We have our neighbors Monika and Hans-Peter to thank for the fact that our houseplants are still green. For the second time, by the way. We are at the sea again, after 2300 km since the Adriatic in Italy.
Thanks to everyone who made our arrival easier. Driving off is easier.
Almost everyone wants to know if we have new travel plans. Undoubtedly. AFTER THE TRIP IS BEFORE THE TRIP.
