Schalke 04 vs Stuttgart in the Bundesliga on Friday, Ireland vs Wales in the Six Nations on Saturday and The Marching Bands of Basel vs Ken in Sleep on Sunday. These and many other things made for a refreshing weekend and on Monday morning I was more than ready to get back on the bike.
I left Basel on an A/B sort of road which ran all the way along the Rhine, mostly at a distance of a few hundred metres and so elevated slightly onto the toes of the foothills to the south of the river. For the first time I experienced regular fluctuations in the slope and I enjoyed it much more than I expected. On the downhills I was able to reach nearly 30 mph and on the uphills I was keen to force some work on my legs in preparation for the Alps at the end of the week. The former was thrilling and the latter very satisfyng. This combination helped me to ignore the miserable morning weather and work through until the sun came through close to lunchtime.
After breaking the back of the day's work I stopped off in the unpresuming Eglisau to eat. This was an unforeseen treat as the high stone and iron railway bridge and old town built into the steep slope of the valley were beautiful in their respective majesty and charm. I enjoyed a large plate of pasta on a postcard swiss village back alley before starting out again for Schaffhausen and the Rheinfall. To reach here, I re-entered Germany and then again Switzerland, a pattern I would be following for the rest of the day.
The Rheinfall was large and impressive. The noise was formidable, even from far up the opposite bank. A Swiss at Basel had told me that they were about the size of a house. I must have been talking unwittingly to a Duke or a billionaire as the falls were several times larger than any house I have seen.
After Schaffhausen I had a short trip along the north bank of the river, dipping in and out of the bordering states. I passed through a couple of fields which showed the first signs I have seen of spring evenings, with mayflys clouding around my warmed body and the sharp smell of manure in the back of my throat. This all bodes well for clear roads in the Alps.
I arrived in the 1000 year old city of Stein am Rhein. It has to be said that the Swiss play fast and loose with the term 'city'. You could throw a small flannel from the 800 year old mountainside Schloss and it would put most of the city in darkness. I quickly found the home of my host for the evening, Cristoph and he romantically whisked me off on the back of his motorcycle to the aforesaid Schloss and the island monastery and took great pains to tell me how old everything was. In brief, very old.
I cooked for Cristoph and me and he told me about his year long motorcycle tour of Europe. I started to think that I may have selected the wrong method of two wheeled transport.
Distance covered 79 miles
