Generic Touring Thread

Having met a lovely lady over the summer meant a change of plans in terms of my annual three week bicycle tour. Not keen on buying a train ticket to the Swiss Alps equivalent to my plane ticket towards a sunny island off the coast of Morocco, I decide to keep it a little closer to home this time.

A week will give me enough time to make a small loop and see the Eifel in Germany, plus a quick peek at the French Ardennes. So, after being dropped off in the centre of Maastricht on a beautiful Monday morning, I embark on the trip properly by enjoying some of Limburg’s finest gravel. This is off to a good start.

I am quickly reminded however that gravel roads in the Netherlands are not the same as they are outside of its borders. A look at my Garmin GPS computer reveals I need to take a right imminently. Before having made the turn, I can already see the broken asphalt starting to go up a worrying amount.

Preemptively I shift the bike into its lowest gear, a not too shabby 26 x 40 teeth. But the sudden transition from shoddy tarmac to full on muddy farm track proves to be too much for the brand new slick Rat Trap Pass tyres, as well as my confidence to keep a loaded touring bike and myself upright under these conditions.

Whether it’s my (lack of) fitness, the heat, the undulating landscape, or all of the above, I’m destroyed. The second day - which was reserved to cycle around the Eifel - is prematurely exchanged for a rest day. At the top of a hill I have the foresight to check whether there are any supermarkets in the valley where I plan to reside that night.

I descend almost 300 metres down to the campsite, with my panniers full of pasta and sugar, and the comforting prospect of not having to lift a single finger the next day. My exhaustion must be palpable, because I’m being offered chairs, tortillas, and oranges by my neighbours after having pitched my tent. I accept all, and thank them for their hospitality.

It seems like I have learnt nothing from yesterday, because the route of the third day is still set to ‘gravel’. After five kilometres and half an hour of muddy single track, I go into Komoot and change the ride type to ‘road’. Purely by accident this great decision gets me onto the Vennbahn almost immediately. Smooth asphalt and gentle gradients turn a tough morning into an extremely relaxed and easy afternoon.

A sweet and very long descent forces me to test my V-brakes, and they work excellently. Arriving at the campsite I’m greeted with an unexpected lack of toilet paper inside the facilities, and a sign reminding everyone not to smear ‘p..p’ on the walls. I guess this is what they call ‘wild camping’.

During a luxuriously long lunch break the next day I pause my Garmin, which responds by automatically showing me the statistics of the ride thus far. 55 kilometres still to go. My legs feel heavy. I eat my two pain au chocolats, single croissant and banana, and drink my mango smoothie, after which I continue my journey.

Another damn hill. I rip out a protein bar (am I ingesting enough of those nutrients?), and flush it down with the Coke I bought along with my lunch. My cycling computer shows me loads of hair pins up ahead, luckily all in my favour. I pause the Garmin: 2.6 kilometres to go. The campsite is at the bottom of what I will loosely call a mountain. I drop 500 metres in what feels like seconds. Those 55 kilometres went by in the blink of an eye.

After another impromptu rest day, it’s time to slowly set sail back home. I’m coasting along the Maas, and the terrain is beautifully flat for a change. Funny how you go out to experience the hills, only to miss the Dutch lands and their endless level bicycle paths. With the wind in my back, today is a short day. I pass a cat with a mouse in its mouth. Everybody’s gotta eat.

Droplets deform the letters on my E-reader during my usual hour-long lunch break. Under normal circumstances the rain would be unwelcome, but with the current warmth it is rather refreshing. The rain jacket stays firmly at the bottom of my right pannier. I have not used it once this holiday.

The final day is like any other final day that ends in my hometown in the Netherlands. A bit boring, positively familiar, and with a distinct lack of elevation gain. I come across a couple on bikepacking rigs, who I imagine are just about to start their own adventure. For me, I am content to have finished mine. I look forward to being home again, and to sleep on a mattress that isn’t filled with air.