Alps 2008
 
 

Day 15

July 3

 
 

I wake up early this morning to the sound of a light rain which has cooled things off a bit. It is pretty amazing to me that in 2 weeks I've only been rained on twice - and that for short periods of time. So I figure I've got no reason to complain at all. Since breakfast is a ways off, I go ahead pack up my stash and ferry it down to Snow White. I do my usual morning 'prep' and strap the old yellow river bag on one more time. Now all I've got left is to eat breakfast, check out, and suit up and I'll be ready to roll. It's just a personal thing, but I hate for other folks to have to wait on me, so I try to be ready to go when it's time.

 
 
 
  Finally breakfast time arrives and Dave and I wander to the dining area to quite a feast. You name it and I believe that had it on their breakfast buffet. The eggs looked like they were fresh, so I steered away from them - having learned my lesson in Andermatt. Granola, yogurt and fresh fruit was there not to mention all sorts of meats, cheeses, breads and jams, so I had plenty to shove down the old feeding chute.  
 
 
 

We discuss our ride today and Dave is comfortable that we can ride part of the route in the Black Forest that we missed yesterday. I tell him

"That will be great. It's hard to believe that of all the places you originally had mapped out, we only missed one pass - thanks to that city traffic jam!"

So we finish up, check out, and soon we are headed down the driveway to the Black Forest and whatever lies beyond.

 
 
 
 

As we leave Eguisheim, I am fascinated by the surrounding vineyards and I mention them to Dave. He tells me -

"This the Alsace part of France - famous for their wine making."

As I will later find out, this is where the Durenbergers - the 'original' Derryberrys - migrated from to the United States.

The vineyards seem to stretch on and on as far as my eyes can see.

 
 
 
 

Then we come to the cornfields that flank both sides of the road. I radio Dave and tell him -

"This could just as well be any part of Iowa or Kansas with the flat fields and the corn."

Or any other part of the Midwest back home for that matter.

 
 
 
  It's a short hop to the German border from where we are. It seems that this area of land swapped hands several times between France and Germany over the centuries, but today the border is pretty well defined.  
 
 
  I turn around and grab a quick shot of the France sign since I have not been able to get one. Because of traffic and the border guards giving me the evil eye, I don't even swing Snow White around to include her in the picture.  
 
 
  I guess they finally decided that the Rhine River would be the determining border for it is right at the line now.  
 
 
  When we get into Freiburg, the construction stops us dead still because the road that Dave wants to take is closed with no detour signs. So he lets the GPS take over and we work our way through some pretty interesting city streets.  
 
 
  We finally get around the mess and my radio is acting up again. We find a parking place to pull off and I decide I am going to change the batteries in the radio to see if that helps. But that does not seem to do much good, so I come to the conclusion that once again it rained last night and once again, the Autocom is acting up. Hmm, could there be a direct correlation in this? It is very frustrating to have this expensive piece of gear malfunction whenever it gets wet - as if rain is not part of the motorcycling experience.  
 
 
  With nothing resolved, we just motor on along and I determine I will just have to stay close to Dave so he doesn't 'lose' me again like yesterday. As we make our way out of town, we come up behind a Harley parade. It does not take Dave and I long to put a lot of space between us and them.  
 
 
  Soon we come to highway 500 which Dave tells me is one of the historic roads that run through the Black Forest. We head north on it toward Triberg and Furtwangen.  
 
 
  But the rain will not leave us alone today, so we pull off and I put on my rain gear. I'm hoping that will stop the rain like it does back home. Usually when it is blazing hot and raining and I suit up, it will quit raining about 5 miles down the road as I bake in the bag.  
 
 
  As look to my left, I can sort of understand why they call it the 'Black Forest'. In the overcast skies the pines and the firs do look almost black. And I'm sure before commercial logging took it's toll, there were a lot more of them in the area.  
 
 
  The roads are mainly sweepers and not too technical, although we do manage to log in two hairpins as we descend into a small town.  
 
 
  It's getting about time to feed the beast and the skies don't look promising, but this place does. There are some more bikes parked outside, so we follow their example and make our way inside.  
 
 
 

As it turns out, the other riders are Brits on holiday, and the owners once lived in Vancouver, BC in Canada, so English is well understood around here. Dave and I both order the jager schnitzel, chips, and the usual Diet Cokes. We have some interesting conversations while the food is being prepared. Then when it arrives, it's enough food to kill a good man, much less two old rags like us. But we step up to the plates and wade in to give it our best shot!. Since we can still breathe, we see if they have any Black Forest cake since we are in the home of the stuff. Sadly but fortunately for our well-stuffed beings, they do not.

 
 
 
  The rain really starts coming down now, so we decide our best option is to just head back to the autobahn for the rest of the ride to Bernkastel-Keus in the Mosel valley. We will be spending the night there so Dave plugs it into his trusty GPS and we are off through the rain. I am still fascinated that we can legally do 100+ mph pretty much the rest of the day - and almost safely. Some munchkin in a little red car just about takes Dave out by cutting right over in front of him. Since there is a US military base nearby, I figure it's probably someone from there. At these rates of speed, it does not take long to blow through a tank of fuel.
 
 
 
  And it is still raining pretty heavily as we take a break. I decide I'll take another picture and to my surprise my faithful old Olympus camera refuses to cooperate. I fiddle with it and fiddle with it, but seems to have died the death. I just hope that all of the pictures that I have taken so far did not get trashed. I guess I'll see when we get to the hotel this evening.  
 
 
 

We hit the road in the rain, but it starts to ease up a little bit. I figure if you are going to have to ride in the rain, the autobahn ain't a bad place to do it. At least you can make good time. After another fuel stop, we finally arrive at the quaint German village. Dave pulls into the hotel that he stayed at last time and I patiently wait outside. When he comes back, he tells me -

"They are fully booked. I guess we'll have to try somewhere else."

"Well, I'm just following you Captain Dave!" I tell him..

We cross over the River Mosel to the other side to another place that Dave discovered when he was here the last time.

 
 
 
 

Dave goes inside to see if they have any vacancies as I watch over the bikes. Before long he comes back with a big grin and two sets of room keys. I tell him

"I guess we're in like Flint!"

 
 
 
  There's a narrow covered area that they let us park the bikes in attached to the hotel, so that works out real nice. What Dave doesn't tell me is that our rooms are across the street ...  
 
 
 
and there are 479 steps to get to them. Actually there are only 33 steps, but then who is counting?
 
 
 
  The rooms are nice enough and actually at a decent price so we unload our stuff and freshen up a bit. After a short rest, we wander back out on the streets looking for a good place to eat. Hmm, it begins to sound familiar - ride, ride, ride, rest, eat ... This town is very picturesque with it's narrow cobblestone streets and ornate old buildings standing at somewhat askew attention. Since my camera seems to have died the death, Dave graciously lets me borrow his while we are out and about.  
 
 
  After strolling around a bit, this place looks worthy of our culinary efforts. It proves to be quite good and fills the bill and our stomachs nicely. I get a very nice pork chop with salad and chips (fries to the US folks).  
 
 
  But no meal is complete without dessert and it just so happens that there is an ice cream parlor on our way back to the hotel.  
 
 
  So we decide that we will do our part to support the local economy, Once again Dave gets something with fruit in it in the interest of being healthy (I still don't buy it). I order chocolate ice cream and plenty of it, since it seems to be in short supply over here. I figure if I'm gonna die, it might as well be with a big smile on my face!  
 
 
  Needless to say after a meal and dessert like that, we slowly waddle back up the steps to our rooms for the evening. I fuss with my camera a little bit more and decide that it is indeed dead. As I dive off to sleep, I determine that I'll get up early in the morning and see if I can find a local camera shop first thing.  
 

Totals For The Day -

Countries - 2 (France, Germany)

Miles - 314

Passes - 0

Hairpins - 2