New Expectations – part 1

bannerDay 3

I awoke about three in the morning to the sound of very quiet fishermen loading their dingy and paddling out on to the lagoon. I awoke next around 6:30 with noises of yet more fishermen preparing for their expedition. This was my signal to rise and greet the day. I dragged my tired body out of our tent on to glistening dewy grass in time to witness morning sun dancing through the spires and domes of Straslund.

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We had met a couple of tour-cyclists this year and I’d asked them what was the one thing they could not ride without? Their answer was: ‘when the ground is wet, a tarpaulin to sit on’. I pulled out our new-to-us long and narrow groundsheet, threw it on top of the dew, plonked myself down and started cooking. Breakfast lagoonside was a slow affair enjoying morning reflections, lapping water and coffee. Our hope was the sun would majestically ascend over the trees, provide us with warmth and dry our tent and damp sleeping-bags. This magic was to slow to materialise and we ended up borrowing the services of a boat trailer that was conveniently parked in the sun.

P1000517With everything dryish and packed away, we jumped on our bikes and started along the road. We were going just fine until about the three kilometre mark, where we suddenly ran out of track. There were two possibilities; a busy road running east and a minor road heading north. Neither of them seemed to match my maps. I used the opportunity to take off my leg warmers and lower my expectations on German cycle tracks. The results were amazing: emerging from the mist, forcing its way through a ploughed field, a ragged gravel track appeared. This was to be the new normal; my expectations were now searching for unsignposted crappy old dirt paths. With relief and joy we steamed our way through empty harvested autumn fields. The joy from these pastures was stolen by a peculiar looking arrow imprinted in the gravel. To my astonishment someone with too much time on their hands had poked into the dirt, in the form of an arrow, dozens of bottle tops. Some creative time-waster was trying to tell me what side of this empty scruffy trail I was supposed to cycle on. It is a shame he couldn’t have spent his time erecting red D2 signs for hapless travellers.

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We stopped in Gustow at a lovely local produce shop and purchased delicious organic yoghurt for our second breakfasts. After crossing miles of ambling fields we stumbled upon our first helpful sign and a hedgerowed paved cycling track. We thought we were in heaven right up until we stumbled upon a cafe in the village of Poseritz. It was a peaceful looking pit stop. On the driveway I dismounted my bike and went exploring. I discovered empty outdoor seating, an angry barking shaggy dog, but no hosts. Giving up on the idea of peaceful morning caffeine, I returned to my bike to be greeted by a car. I can only presume it was the owners inside. The passenger wound down her window, flashed me her beautiful scowl and commanded me to get out of the way. So I did, I jumped on my bike and showered the village with my dust as we stormed down a lovely fast paved escape-route of a cycle trail.

Our track changed to predicable farm trails and eventually spat us out at the harbour haven of Feriendorf. This village was one of many fairytale hamlets we were about to encounter. The southern side of Rügen with its townships of whitewash and thatch was exceptionally peaceful. We encountered our first cobblestones in Schabernack and shortly afterwards our first sandy track. Both surfaces have the potential to make tour-cycling utterly miserable.

We were soon to stumble upon the town of Garz and followed signs from the cycle path to the ‘Castle Wall Restaurant’. We were two of five cyclists and were able to cycle right up to our table. The waitress came out and greeted us with a gorgeous ‘Rügen scowl’, tolerating us long enough to take our coffee orders. I popped inside and spying the high water-tap at the bar, asked if I could fill our water bottles. I was promptly directed to the toilets. I sat outside suffering a terrible coffee and realised that if I was to enjoy this journey; once again I must lower my expectations. From now on I was to presume that I would be greeted by long downturned mouths and narrow petulant eyes.

Our track changed to predicable farm trails and eventually spat us out at the harbour haven of Feriendorf. This village was one of many fairytale hamlets we were about to encounter. The southern side of Rügen with its townships of whitewash and thatch was exceptionally peaceful. We encountered our first cobblestones in Schabernack and shortly afterwards our first sandy track. Both surfaces have the potential to make tour-cycling utterly miserable.

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Introduction
Day 1 – Setting Sail
Day 2 – Training, part 1
Day 2 – Training, part 2
Day 3 – New Expectations, part 1
Day 3 – New Expectations, part 2
Day 4 – Cobbles, part 1
Day 4 – Cobbles, part 2
Day 5 – Each Other, part 1
Day 5 – Each Other, part 2
Day 6 –  A Sprocket of a Day, part 1
Day 6 –  A Sprocket of a Day, part 2
Day 7 – Bonking, part 1
Day 7 – Bonking, part 2
Day 7 – Bonking, part 3
Day 8 – Time Keeping
Day 9 – Homeward 
Day 10 – I Love Germany

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