Three-peat

Trittenheim to Zeltingen, approx 35 k according to our route guide but with my help it was more like 60.

It was shaping up to be a far too leisurely day before I stuck my oar in.
An early start in an attempt to beat the heat, we had our breakfast ( or Frühstück) at 8 am, as soon as they opened for business. It was a typical fabulous spread, although not everyone appreciated the soft boiled eggs and plates of charcuterie brought to our table. Weirdly, the fruit looks delicious here but tastes terrible, too long in the chiller due to this heat I imagine.

Ready for the Jordan party.

On the other hand, the bread was absolutely delicious, light and crusty, on a par with a French baguette, if it’s not sacrilegious to say so. The jam is also exquisite, sweet but tart.
It was quite cool when we set off just after 9.  First stop was a viewpoint on the nearby hillside.

Why did Simon not wait for the white van to go past to take this pic? Best ask him yourself. Note teal jacket.

We then whizzed back down the hill and rejoined the riverside route. We stopped at an old Roman wine cellar complex and there were a couple of quaint villages but otherwise it was just very attractive green leafy picturesque cycle trails, through countryside covered in vertiginous vineyards. There were far more other cyclists on the route today, the majority older than us and zooming along on their ebikes with apparently very little effort.  Yes, two of our group have e-bikes but it’s a point of pride to stay in “eco” mode most of the time.
Late morning the weather was starting to warm up so we stopped at a little restaurant for refreshments. No Küchen available unfortunately but we all had the apple juice/sparkling water combo that is popular round here and hits the spot perfectly on a hot day.
More of the same scenery until we got to the half way stage where we decided to stop for lunch. Both the places recommended to us by our host last night were closed (one had a sign outside saying closed between 12 and 1 for lunch, isn’t that bizarre for a restaurant? I’m sure we are missing something here.) Luckily Simon found a perfect place with a terrace looking out over the river.
It was as I was unpacking my pannier that I discovered the terrible truth. I had left my real jacket at the place we’d had our morning tea. Oh, the horror. We decided to have lunch while we figured out what to do. The best idea that we came up with was to ring the earlier restaurant to confirm my jacket was there (and it was, I cannot emphasize enough how useful it is to have someone in your party that speaks the language, even if it’s just schoolboy German – thanks, David!), and then ring our emergency contact on the tour company that organized the cycle trip, to see if they could pick it up and drop it off at our hotel. This conversation was much less successful. They explained that it would be a two hour trip for them and then hung up. Which we took to mean “that sounds like a you-problem”.

The decision then was to cycle back to get the jacket. Of course I could have gone back by myself but it was decided we’d all go back, which we did. The younger speedier couple got there first, but only because I hadn’t realized early enough that Simon thought it was a race. By then it was too late to catch up, even when we took a couple of short cuts, thanks to Google maps. We did the return journey back to our lunch spot in less than an hour, and only an hour after that we reached our stop for the night, Zeltingen.

What backtracking? Where? I don’t know what you’re talking about. 

After lugging our suitcases up several staircases (elevators are for the weak it seems), we had an hour’s break in our rooms to have a shower, cool down, drink lots of water, and write this.
A 3 course al fresco dinner with a generous glass of the local reisling, followed by a gentle stroll around town, and it’s time for bed. This really is living the dream for me. (Barring my stupid late morning brain fart that added 20 k to our day’s journey. I’m just lucky everyone has been so gracious about it).

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