Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Over the Pond – Part Three

Two Wheels Times Four on the Road.

Thursday, August 28th – I’m up early. It’s ride day. I’m ready to roll. I’m excited. I’m always up early on ride day, and this is no ordinary ride. I’m on the other side of the world and have no idea what it has in store for me from one minute to the next, but I’m ready to find out.

Ad, Harry and I are expecting Gie and Phil around 8:30 to 9:00. It’s not to be. Gie phones around 9:00 to inform us that they’re running a little behind schedule. Expect them around 10:00. Okay, relax. They’ll get here when they get here. True to his word, Gie rolls into sight right at ten followed closely by Phil. We’ve moved Harry’s bike out of sight because Phil doesn’t know he’s here and we want to surprise him.
Phil is appropriately pleased and surprised, and after a half hour for greetings, high fives and excited bike talk, we’re on our way; Gie leading – who knows where- followed by me, Phil and Harry.

We snake our way through narrow Prinsenbeek streets for only a short time. Within ten minutes I am comfortably following Gie through rolling farmland heading for Belgium.

I am floating somewhere up on cloud nine and could not retrace my route to save my soul. I do know however where we ended, so I can draw a line on a map and take an educated guess.

Our first stop was less than two hours down the road at Alden Biesen Castle deep into the Flemish countryside of Flanders in northeastern Belgium.
A quick geography lesson.. The area we have just passed through is the Province of Flanders – remember “Flanders Fields” that we recited in school every Remembrance Day? West and East Flanders cover approximately the northern half of Belgium, and are populated primarily by the Flemish who make up sixty percent of the population of Belgium.
Although the Flemish have their own language, the intellectual norm in Flanders means learning two or more foreign languages, generally English, French and German, to a higher standard than most countries: this, in an area less than a tenth the size of Washington State. And you thought multilingualism was confusing here. I’m not confused. I don’t speak any of them. It’s all just European to me!

I’m not dealing with any of this though. I’m just following the leader and soaking in the beauty of this amazing country.

Alden Biesen Castle is the first real castle of my trip. Although the castle dates back to 1220, the existing buildings are from the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries. We stop for some good Belgium coffee in a courtyard café and spend an hour strolling the grounds. Still faithful to its architectural roots, Alden Biesen is now maintained as a multifunctional cultural center of the Flemish community.

From Alden Biesen, we head east and are soon on the Autobahn, German style.

Let me tell you a thing or two about the German Autobahn. I’ll tell you what it’s not. It’s not the Dutch Autobahn. Earlier, I expressed an opinion that Autobahn is a Dutch word for traffic jam. I knew when we crossed the border from Belgium to Germany because apparently the loose English translation of the German word “autobahn” is “ hey a—hole, get the hell out of my way”. Mind you, we had been rambling along Flanders lazy country roads, so that probably made the shift somewhat more dramatic - but Holy Crap Batman, German drivers are really aggressive!!!

The German Autobahn is not much different from any of our interstates; one way divided highways, always at least two lanes, most often three and occasionally four. The notoriety of “no speed limits” is not entirely accurate. There are sections which have speed limits seemingly capricious in nature. I saw speed limits drop from 140 to 70 (kilometers per hour) instantly. I have no doubt that there was some rationale to this, but at the time, I was more focused on just staying alive and not losing sight of my tour guide.

Consistent with the stereotypical image of the Autobahn, in between these periodic controlled speed zones there were vast stretches of free-for-all. After an hour or so on the Autobahn, I began to find the rhythm of it all and quite enjoyed the 140 - 180 km per hour pace. I was ever mindful of the notion that no matter how fast I was going, there was likely a Mercedes/Porsche/Volkswagen/Audi coming up on my rear left quarter at 200+ - with no intention of slowing down for my slowpoke Canadian tourist ass. I actually had a Volkswagen cube van pass me at 150. That was in the early stages of my indoctrination and seemed somehow to just fit right into this surreal world of the Autobahn. It would also seem that there are only two acceptable colors for German cars: silver and black.

To be fair, Europe’s population density is well served by this system and for all my initial misgivings about the insanity of it, the highway system works well. I did not see a traffic accident during my entire stay in Europe, a statement I could probably not make after three weeks of traveling North American highways. Everybody seems to understand the rules and those who don’t, won’t or can’t simply stay off the A roads.

The best I can make out from reviewing maps is that we traveled northwest to southeast towards Heidelberg. I know we stopped in Konken for gas. That was my first $40 gas tank fill up. I was mentally prepared for high gas prices. Although higher than Canada, my initial sense was that they were not that much higher. Maybe an extra fifty cents a liter. Then one of my compadres reminded me that the price is in Euros, not dollars. Yikes!!!

We spent most of that afternoon traveling the Autobahn. We did stop just long enough at a US air base (Spangdahlem)to catch our breath and snap a couple of pictures of the sign. My focus for that first day was mostly to just not get lost. I was a long way from home with no GPS.

Home for the night was Bruhl, and the abode of CGE member Roland Kohl. Bruhl is a small German town (suburb of Mannhiem) not too dissimilar to Prinsenbeek. Once off the Autobahn, we followed easier rural roads then narrow urban roads in Bruhl to Roland’s home and a welcoming banner strung across his entranceway proclaiming, “Welcome GTR 1000 Friends.”

Great food, even more beer, and much laughter (in English, German, Dutch and Belgian) carried us through the evening, eventually guiding us off to the land of nod sometime after midnight - a fitting end for a fantastic first day on the road.