26 Aug 2011

Nesselwang to Outside Hergatz (90 km)

The three H’s of bicycle touring that one wants to avoid: Hills, Heat, and Headwinds.  Today we had all three, bringing about the fourth H of bike touring that one also wants to avoid:  Hergatz.  Hergatz, Germany, that is.  Hergatz is the place you see on your map that springs hopeful after 70 kilometers under a relentless sun, the hills and headwinds having beaten out of you what little was left in your legs, the heat whatever was left of your common sense.  Passing through town after town with no accommodation, the bold font of Hergatz stands out on your map and you say to one another, Ok, let’s head there, it’s only 15 more kilometers and if those K’s are flat and paved with maybe a little downhill and a tailwind mixed in, we can be there in an hour.  You say this even though you know deep down inside that the chance of those K’s being flat and paved let alone downhill with a tailwind is about equal to the odds that Gina’s shoe will hold together for the next four weeks, especially if the day’s ride thus far has been any indication of what lies ahead.

And your gut would be right.  Bigger hills than before, a stronger headwind, and a little loose gravel to round things out.  But then finally, finally, you’ve arrived in Hergatz when quick as a wink you hear Gina saying “Where’s the town?”, for no sooner have you arrived than you are pedaling back (uphill) into the countryside.  This nearly brings about the fifth H of bike touring – Histrionics – for now you are completely spent and so is your water bottle, dry as a bone and no McDonalds in sight.  What you then don’t expect?  The sixth H of bike touring – Harleys.  There, by the side of the highway, is a Biker Bar and they have rooms for rent.  Hello Boys, I might not have a motor but I got two wheels and I ain’t afraid to use ’em.

You might be a little nervous at first, taking a room in a German Biker Bar, but when you can’t pedal another rotation and that heat rash on your legs is prettier than whatever is going on in your shorts, you stuff down your fears and put the key in the lock.  And you might be pleasantly surprised.  I know we were, with the fluffy duvets and the Family Friday Night BBQ, delivering forth that seventh H – Happiness.