Sean here, taking over blogging duty for a day. My tour started really when Mum, Dad and Kirsty lurched into view at 8.30 or so in Freiburg. After a quick dinner and all to brief a sleep I was on the road, slotting in for Kirsty whilst she nursed various bumps and scrapes.
My substitute appearance fell on the Alpine ride from Freiburg (a pretty little town steeped in history, elegance and antiquated Germanness) to Balingen. The day started in a pattern that, I imagine, has become fairly familiar to the others: aimlessly riding through an unknown town trying to work out where to go. By the end of the day this was also fairly familiar to me. Eventually we found a couple of maps and pointed ourselves in the right direction, and soon bumped into a Frenchman and his wife aimlessly riding round trying to work out where they were. It must be contagious.
The first half of the ride was mountainous but stunning and ultimately rewarding. We zigzagged up Alpine roads, sheltered by the huge firs and spruces embedded throughout as the sun shifted through the gears towards its zenith. Halfway through one of the many climbs I paused to wait for the others and turned to face the scene. Hundreds, thousands of these tall trees spread ovwer the valley like summery Christmasses. I was enjoying this thought when Mum and Dad cranked into view, Dad a picture of toil and sweat, Mum with half her energy devoted to riding, the other half wildly gesticulating up the mountainside in my direction. In moments of harmony and tranquility there is always a Roberts waiting round the corner.
The descents were even more fun, long, winding, cruising smooth dashes into villages. Every so often I'd hit a pocket of cool air hiding in a dip and feel refreshed, ready to take on the next climb. I felt lucky to be on this tour, however I think much of my excitement was due to knowledge that it was a one off, I didn't have the weight of hundreds of miles to Istanbul pulling me down. During these early Sunday morning miles we were accompanied by Jeremy Clarkson's nemesis: the Sunday Cyclist Lycra Brigade. Have to say that on the whole they weren't overly friendly to us. Maybe it was our lack of professional cycle gear, or it would have taken their average speed down. Maybe, though, at a speed roughly three times ours they didn't even notive us crawling along.
Our Alpine section ended with a late lunch in Villingen, by which point I think the hills were getting to us all. For me when the terrain flattened out the whole thing became a bit dull, attritional, and I was beginning to feel it a bit. The afternoon and evening were very different to the morning, those Christmasses turned into horrible hungover Boxing Days where everyone starts getting at each other. I really can't remember any place or incident of note, whilst there were too many to write about in the morning. When we eventually rolled into Balingen at 9.30 we were glad to get it over with, and limped off for a quick doner and falafel, the single thing so far in South Germany thats been anything like Berlin.
Sean
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